UC-NRLF 


P    8 

1054 

A25 

K5 

1849a 

MAIN 


C   3   EflT 


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,  ^          ^ 


THE  PSfflCE  OF  THE  GOLD  HMTERS. 

i 


.': 

;  „  ^.'^fegLl^ 


I    •• 

Vi!iiL^  ^fea^Si       . 


THEJNIISER, 

JOHN   V^ERtNON, 

DISCOVERING  THE  SUICIDE  OF  HIS 
WIFE, 

WHO     HAD,     FORYEABS, 

^l/  Eluded  his  Pursuit 


BY  CHARLES  E,  AVERILL, 


PUBLISHED  BY  GEORGE  H.  WILLIAMS,  52,  WASHINGTON  ST. 

AND    FOR    SALE    BY 

Hotchkiss  &  Co.,  Redding  &  Co,,  W,  R,  Davis,  F,  S.  Saxton,  Boston— Stringer 
&  Townsend,  H.  Long  &  Brother,  Bcrford  &  Co,,  Dewitt  &  Davenport,  W. 
H,  Graham,  N,  York— A,  Winch,  T,  B.  Peterson,  Philadelphia— Wm. 
Taylor,  Baltimore— Stratton  &  Barnard,  Cincinnati,  0.— C.  A.  Mantz, 
C.  K.  Woodward,  Mo.— J.  Carter,  Louisville,  Ky.— W.  Clark,  N.  Orleans. 
J.  A.  Roys,  Eetroit,— 

And  to  be  had  of  all  Periodical  Depots  in  the   United  States. 
A- 


/.    \'IOE,  25  CENTS. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Con  grew,  in  the  year  1840,  by  Gtorge  H.  Williams,  in  the  Clerk's 
Office,  in  the  DUtriot  Court  of  the  District  of  Mmtaohuieiu.] 


PS  1054     ^5 
AWsa 


KIT  CARSON, 


X. 


The  Merchant's  Clerk—  The  Temptation  — 
The  Mrufffflr.—  Tlic  Dream  of  Wealth— 
Tlic  Student's  Strange  Secret—  A  Night 
Adventure  in  the  City. 

'Trmptrr  ixvny  !    wouhlst  ilion  hrgnile  T 
\Vlint  !  did  I  list  to  thee  awhile  !' 

1  Hnrk  !  hark  !    the  «lreiul  alarm  !' 


ROM  tho  Old  South 
clock  and  the  State 
House  bell,  chimed  the 
hour  of  nine.  The 
>  liring  world  of  Bos- 
*  ^'j?  ton's  mighty  metropolis 
was  sinning  to  its  night 
ly  rest ;  tho  busy  marts  were  closing ;  the 
*plendid  stores  of  fashionable  resort,  behind 
oaken  shutters  and  iron  bars  were  veiling 
their  wealth  of  costly  merchandize  ;  from  the 
brokers'  windows  of  State  and  Exchange 
streets,  had  been  withdrawn  to  the  security 


J  of  •  Salamanders,*  tho  tempting  hoard  ot 
golden  treasure,  whose  lavish  display  had, 
that  day,  realized  to  many  a  poor,  starving 
wretch,  t'lc  torment*  of  Tantalus;  'Change, 
itself,  had,  fur  m;niy  hours,  been  void  of  its 
restless  tide  of  speculation,  and  from  all 
parts  of  the  city,  the  steady  current  of  home- 
returning  pedestrians  proclaimed  the  advance* 
ment  of  the  night. 

A  half  hour  later,  and  the  streets  of  the 
great  city  would  be  nearly  deserted.  But,  in 
the  meantime,  wiihin  tho  gorgeous  interior 
of  one  of  the  most  stately  stores  of  which  our 
time-honored  promenade  of  Washington*!. 
run  boast,  it  tho  further  extremity  of  the 
massive  granite  structure  itself,  a  gas-light 
Htill  was  burning  in  unquenched  brilliancy  ;. 
Jet  wns  it  like  a  siar  veiled  by  a  cloud,  for, 
through  the  ponderous  closed  shutters  of  the 
loftv-storied  structure,  no  ray  of  that  hidden 
radiance  was  suffered  to  penetrate  without. — 
Fitfully  over  the  bent  form  of  a  young  man, 
fitfully  over  the  stained  and  blotted  pages  of 
the  ledger  before  him,  (lured  tl.e  gu«-light*i 


202 


KIT  CARSON. 


sickly  glare,  in  bold  relief  reflecting,  despite 
the  shadows  and  tho  darkness  of  the  outer 
night,  the  appearance  of  the  merchant's 
clerk. 

Singularly  at  variance  with  the  luxurious 
aspect  of  the  store  and  belongings,  seemed  in 
truth  tho  somewhat  shabby  exr-rior  of  the 
young  man  ;  whose  thread-bare  coat,  vilh  its 
well-worn  elbows  exhibiting  more  than  one 
prudent  darn,  gnve  »uch  suspicious  evidence 
of  having  been  but  too  often  brushed,  as  did 
the  neglected  hat  that  cumbered  the  writing 
cabinet  of  tho  counting  room  in  which  he  sat ; 
his  back  rounded,  his  hend  resting  between 
his  clasped  hands  upon  the  unclosed  account- 
oook,  so  thut  tho  face  could  not  Le  seen — his 
whole"  crouching  attitude  expressive  of  tho 
most  "Her  physical  exhuution.  Ky  his  hard 
and  sonorous  breathing  it  was  not  difficult  to 
tell  that  the  over-tasked  laborer  hud  fallen 
asleep  at  his  tusk  1 

It  was  with  a  violent  start  that  ho  suddenly 
woke. 

4  Ha  I  where  am  I  ?'  was  his  first  uncon- 
scious  exclamation  of  confused  recollection 
and  surprise. 

'  Hov/ 1  and  have  I,  indeed  been  sleeping  7* 
ho  repeated, '  sleeping  at  my  post?  strange 
that  I  should  so  lose  myself  I  and  yot  not  so 
•trongo  after  all.  I  have  boen  sadly  tasked 
of  late,  and  Nature,  though  long-enduring, 
must  yield  at  last.  Ah  me  !'  he  murmured, 
'  I  am  well-nigh  worn  out,  1  foar ;  sixteen 
hours  of  the  twenty-four  spent  daily  in  labor ; 
constant  confinement,  no  recreation,  the  same 
eternal  round, — alas!  what  marvel  that  they 
•hould  reduce  me  to  this  state  of  bodily  pro*. 
tration  ?  And  all  this  I  suffer  for  a  pitiful 
•alary  of  a  meagre  five  hundred  n-yoar,  that 
will  scarce  clothe  mo  decently,1  and  tho 
speaker  bitterly  surveyed  himself  ns  he  spoko, 
in  one  of  tho  splendid  mirrors  which  beauti 
fied,  while  seeming  to  double,  tho  extent  of 
the  luxurious  sales-room  beyond. 

He  had  risen  erect  in  tho  act,  and  as  he 
took  a  step  or  two  forward,  he  bchelJ,  re] 


fleeted  back  a  care-worn,  though  noble  coun- 
tenance,  and  a  brow  on  which  anxious  thought 
and  trouble  had  marred  much  of  youthful 
clearness,  while  from  sadness1  own  shadows, 
his  dark  hazel  eyes  had  borrowed  oven  a 
deeper  shade. 

An  expression  almost  cynical  had  marked 
his  hint-uttered  words,  and  yet  with  other 
thoughts,  ctirno  also  a  softened  tono,  as  in  a 
moment  ho  reiterated, — 

'  All  this  for  fivo  hundred  a-ycar!  all  this 
for  thut — and  yet  not  for.  that  alone — for  her 
sake,  too,  I  should  have  said,  do  1  endure 
all  thut  I  do.  My  sister  I  my  sweet  sister! 
tho  solo  being  left  to  cure  for  the  poor  and 
friendless,  clerk  !  Ah,  poor  girl !  hide  she 
knows  of  all  her  brother's  sud  privations  for 
her  dear  suke — God  grant  she  never  may  ! 
My  poverty  !  my  poverty  !  she  knows  not  half 
its  full  extent,  and  still  she  sees  how  very  poor 
1  am.  Alas,  this  shabby  dress,  this  thread* 
bare  garb  speak  plainer  than  words.  And 
yet— ha,  ho  ! * 

Hero  ho  pausedjibruptly,  and  with  a  hol 
low  laugh,  as  in  speaking,  his  hollow  eye 
glanced  first  at  tho  costly  army  of  richest 
good,  then  from  thcso  to  his  own  half* worn 
out  apparel, — 

1  And  yet,  why  need  I  so  remain  ?  Hero 
ore  fabrics  in  thouHandn,  from  tho  richest 
looms  of , Persia  and  India— true,  my  limited 
income  is  insufficient  to  support  an  orphan 
sister  and  indulge  h  the  expensive  luxuries 
of  dress— ttill,  I  might  thus  indulge.  Ha  ! 
ha !  how  is  it  that  half  your  spruce  young 
city  clerks,  out  of  their  meagre  salaries,  con 
trive  to  dress  so  fashionably  ?— how,  how,  I 
say  ?  Plain  people  wonder,  but  tho  secret  they 
know  not  ?' 

And  tho  speaker  sarcastically  pursued  his 
soliloquy, — 

'  Ye*,  the  secret  uf  it !  A  fo w  yards,  more 
or  less,  in  a  costly  piece  of  broadcloth,— 
what  are  they  T  they  probably  never  would  be 
missed,  where  a  business  so  enormous  is  can 
ricd  on,  or,  if  discovered,  to  whoso  charg 


KIT  CARSON. 


among  so  muny  salesmen,  co-jld  tho  pccula-  ' 
tion  bo  luid  ?  Yet,  thaUk  God!  I  never 
stooped  to  ihnt — I  never  pleaded  that  excuse 
for  sinning  thus,  though  who,  in  truth,  is  most 
toblnme? — what  but  the  grinding  ppirit  of 
penurious  employers  is  it,  after  all,  that  makes 
dishonesty  in  those  who  serve  them?  When 
hut  a  dog's  compensation  is  given  us,  what 
wonder  is  it  that  the  clerics  of  the  city  cheat 
and  betray  their  trust?  Still,  'tis  theft  no 
less,  and no,  no,  I  would  sooner  fur  con 
tinue  in  this  poor  garb,  and  know  that,  at 
least,  the  moans  by  which  it  was  first  gained 
I  need  not  blush  to  own,  though  I  may  blush 
for  its  |)ovcrty. 

4  That  temptation,  nt  any  rate,  for  years  I 
have  resisted,  and  still  I  will  withstand  ;  and 
yet,  I  am  very,  very  poor !  O,  my  sister  ! — 
would  I  could  make  thoc,  at  least,  rich  and 
happy — alas  !  hoic  ?J 

There  was  silence,  perfect  silence,  for  a 
few  moments.  The  noble-minded  fellow 
srcmed  busied  in  deepest  thought — a  sudden 
and  bright  light  came  into  his  thoughtful  eye 
— a  warm  flush  reddened  his  pale  check — his 
who!e  countenance  became,  all  at  once,  in 
stinct  with  life  ;  and  from  his  eager,  parted 
lips,  came,  breathlessly,  a  single  word — one 
ningle  word  that,  within  iho  space  of  three 
brief  months,  has  gained  a  power  to  sway, 
alike  the  soul  of  Ambition  and  Avarice — to 
summon  its  votaries  fiom  homo  and  loved 
ones,  near  and  far,  across  the  untrodden  main 
thousands  and  thousands  of  miles  away — to 
re-arouse  the  drooping  hope,  and  afresh  in 
spire  tho  dying  energy — to  bewilder  even 
the  constitutionally  cool  and  staid  with  its 
magic  sound,  while  exciting  almost  to  mad 
ness,  the  lessen!  in  and  calculating  enthusiast. 
That  one  word,  reader,  you  have  heard  it 
before  ;  it  was, —  for  who  is  he  has  heard 
it  not? — 

CALIFORNIA!!  I 

It  was  uttered,  the  talismanic  word  1  and 
then  the  spirit's  sudden  light  went  out,  as 
evanescent  in  its  life  as  in  its  birth — nod 


death  as  instantaneous  seemed  to   follow  the 
new-born  hope. 

'  Folly  !  sheer  folly  !  Where  should  I  gain 
the  necessary  means  ?  who  is  there  to  bestow 
upon  the  friendless  clerk  the  amount  requi 
site  to  transport  him  to  that  golden  land  where 
so  many  hope  to  enrich  themselves,  ere  the 
year  be  out.  I  have  tried  every  means,  every 
honorable  means — exerted  myself  in  vain. — 
All,  all  to  no  purpose  ;  the  friends,  the  influ 
ence,  the  generous  helping  hand— I  have  them 
not.' 

Dcspondingly,  at  the  unwelcome  assurance, 
the  despairing  young  man's  head  sank  upon 
his  breast,  and  he  stood  the  very  picture  of 
silent  despair. 

Then,  for  the  last  time.,  in  his  sir  mge self- 
communion,  he  muttered,  and  this  time  with 
looks  full  of  excitemenf, — 

•  Ha! — and  yet,  what  a  maddening  thought! 
that  when  fortune  is  within  my  very  grasp, 
when  the  me  e  possession  of  a  few  hundred 
dollars  \a  but  needed  to  waft  me  to  that  bright 
land  of  promise  which  so  suddenly  Ins  open 
ed  on  the  view,  to  boundless  riches  in  certain 
prospective', — a  man's  hands  should  he  hope- 
less'y  tied  for  lack  of  this  pitiful  sum,  and  he 
still  forced  to  delve  on  here  for  the  paltry  pit 
tance  of  a  livelihood,  while  in  another  clime, 
he  might  be  winning  wealth  exhaus>tless  for 
himself  and  his  dear  ones!  O  !  torture  worst 
of  all!' 

And  fearfully  agitated  by  the  thrilling  pic 
ture  he  hail  drawn,  that  dark  picture  which 
has  risen,  doublloss,  before  thousands  situated 
thus,  a  groan  escaped  from  his  heaving  chest 
and  his  every  feature  seemed  to  participate, 
acutely,  in  tne  anguish  that  convulsed  limbs, 
form  and  face. 

But  at  this  point  it  was  that  his  excitement, 
his  grief  his  despondency,  now  at  once  ap 
peared,  and  in  a  startling  shape,  to  have 
reached  thtir  climax.  His  dark  hazel  eye 
lighted  up  swiftly,  us  a  clouded  aky  by  the 
tempest  lightnings,  gleamed  with  a  new  and 
strange  meaning. 


10 


KIT  CARSON, 


With  a  quick,  short,  determined  step,  ho 
passed  on  into  the  munificent  salesroom  ;  U 
was  but  a  moment  that  ho  wus  gone ;  ere  it 
had  quite  elapsed,  with  a  key  taken  fr.om  a 
secret  depository  in  the  counter,  ho  re-enter* 
ed  the  counting-room  he  had  but  for  an  in 
stant  left. 

It  was  a  heavy  iron  key,  odd  in  its  forma 
tion,  and  with  it  in  I. is  grasp  he  paused  not, 
halted  not,  nor  hesitated,  till,  on  bent  knees, 
he  kr.elt  before  a  massive  Salamander  Safe, 
that  Mood  concealed  within  a  hidden  re 
cess. 

What,  ah,  what  could  bo  his  secret  pur* 
pose? 

Lot  his  bloodless  face  and  lips  compressed, 
and  teeth  tightly  clenched  over  that,  and  <hat 
stern  look  of  desperation  on  OIK;  and  all,  tell, 
alas,  but  too  intelligibly !  Thus  seeming, 
thus  appearing,  but  with  unshuking  hand,  he 
seeks  for  the  particular  knob  which,  alone  of 
all  its  hundred  companions,  conceals  so  cun 
ningly  the  key-hole  of  the  safe. 

It  is  found  !  and  the  key  in  the  lock  insert 
ed;  still,  none  but  a  practised  hand,  would 
even  then  huvn  successfully  assayed  to  turn 
the  ponderous  warda,or  roll  buck  the  shrewd 
ly  contrived  bolt ;  but  his  clerk's  duty  has 
mude  him  familiar  with  the  tusk,  though 
never  before  coupled  with  hid  present  p'ir- 
pose. 

The  very  next  moment — tho  criticul  mo 
ment  of  hi«  destiny — the  during  hand  of  the 
merchant's  clerk  was  huried  amid  piles  of  »il- 
.  ver  and  gold,  and  passing  over  packages  of 
bunk  iioies,  or  rattling  a.nid  bugs  of  glittering 
coin. 

Tho  solid  wealth  of  one  of  Tri- mount's 
most  opulent  merchant-princes,  the  riches  of 
a  life-time's  accumulation,  lay  exposed  and 
within  his  grasp.  The  halfof  till  he  saw  was 

more  than  robber's  hand  could  boar  away, 

the  fourth  of  it  would  have  insured  to  any  one 
a  splendid  competence  ;  to  him  who  now  do* 
voured  it  with  his  eyes,  it  would  have  realized 
VH  brightest  dreams  of  monied  bliss— yet 


alas!  with  crime,  with  dishonor,  only  to  be 
bought.  • 

And  now,  as  in  silence,  in  secrecy,  unseen 
by  any  save  God's  omniscient  eye,  over  that 
princely  treasure  he  bent,  a  fearful  thought 
had  roused  u  fearful  struggle  in  his  sou!.— 
Should  ho,  tho  neglected,  the  down-trodden, 
the  uncared-for  instrument,  whose  incessant 
labors  hud  helped  for  years  to  swell  these 
hoarded  gains,  he  who  had  slaved  away,  in  a 
hard  master's  service,  the  best  part  of  his  life 
for  a  bare  subsistence — should  he.  take  from 
that  vast  accumulation  the  small  amount  that 
necessity  required,  to  open  for  him  Fortune's 
inviting  portals,  and  fly — fly  tu  that  newly- 
discovered  haven  of  the  poor  man's  hopes, 
whose  signal  lights  were  so  brightly  shining, 
a  beacon  to  both  the  New  World  and  the 
Old? 

lie  hesitated,  he  faltered,  ho  paused.  The 
sum  itself  was  trifling  in  comparison — its  en- 
tire  value,  thrice-told,  would  not,  us  it  was, 
have  half  made  up  to  him  tho  unjust  deficits 
in  his  miserly  remuneration,  and,  eventful 
query  I — wus  he  not  authorized  in  its  appro 
priation  ? 

The  act  committed,  tho  abstraction  of  the 
little  needed  wus  secure  from  discovery  a  full 
week  at  least — for  only  so  often  came  the 
periodical  reckoning,  and  by  that  tune  would 
ho  be  far  away  upon  tho  ocoan— long  before 
that  dcy  tho  fortune-bonring  ship  would  sail, 
With  wealth  illimitable  ho  could  return,  make 
restitution  a  thousand-fold  to  heal  the  scar  of 
conscience,  bring  joy  and  happiness  to  u  poor 
orphan  sister,  and  to  himself,  emancipation 
from  a  life  of  servitude. 

In  lightning-liko  quickness  of  transition 
passed  these  lightning-ilka  thoughts  through 
his  mind  ;  his  agitation  bccumo  feverish,  it 
was  no  longer  passive  ;  and  in  a  perfect  de 
lirium  of  excitement,  and  when  it  was  with 
drawn,  a  bag,  heavy  with  its  glittering  weight 
of  gol  J,  was  in  his  grasp. 

A  hectic  flush  usurped,  with  itd  ruddiness 
tho  Inbitual  pallor  of  his  check  —his  hand,  for 


KIT  CARSON. 


11 


the  first  time,  trembled  with  eagerness — a 
thrilling  tremor  shook  his  whole  frame — then 
with  a  rattling  clash,  the  bag,  with  its  contents 
fell  to  the  floor  1 

Like  the  thunder-bolt  that  on  Calvary's  sa 
cred  summit,  split  the  temple-veil  in  twain — 
like  the  shock  of  tho  judgment-trump  itself — 
to  tho  excited  fancy  of  tho  half  frenzied  young 
man  seemed  the  sharp  clang  of  the  falling 
gold. 

The  spell  was  broken,  the  cling  of  the 
chinking  coin  had  lost  its  long-held  magic 
charm  ! 

4  I  was  mad  ! — mad!'  he  shrieked,  and 
started  to  his  feet.  '  Great  God  !  and  have  my 
senses  quite  deserted  me  1  I  foel  my  very 
reason  shaking,  my  brain  reeling  within  me. 
Escaped  ! — thank  Heaven's  own  mercy — es 
caped  !  What  was  I,  in  my  wi'.d  delirium, 
about  to  do  ? — rob,  plunder  my  employers, 
betray  thcii  confiding  trust,  cover  myself 
with  eternal  infamy,  aye,  and  madman  that 
I  wnp,  make  my  idolized  sister  blush  to  own 
me  for  a  brother.  But  I  was  insane ;  for  tho 
moment,  insane.  O,  never,  never,  O  my 
God,  while  reason  is  spared,  while  mind,  with 
mind  and  sense,  remains,  will  I  be  criminal  ' 
Sooner,  a  thousand  times  sooner,  would  1  drag 
on  my  present  sad  und  hopeless  existence — 
sooner  far  remain  the  miserable  slave  to  the 
desk  and  counter  that  I  have  been,  from  my 
youth  up,  than  degrade,  debase  myself  in  my 
own  eyes  thus.  No,  no  ! — not  all  the  gold 
of  California  could  tempt  me  thus  again  !' 

With  tho  very  utterance  of  those  noble 
words,  that  sublime  and  proud  resolve,  the 
tempted  onu  felt  with  joy  inexpressible,  that 
he  was  saved — saved  from  himself.  Slill  he 
was  fearfully  agitated  ;  the  abrupt  revulsion  of 
feeling  had  been  as  powerful  as  the  danger 
ous  emotions  which  it  had  dispelled  from  him 
forever. 

4  Air,  air  1*  faintly  he  faltered,  for  the  damp 
sweat  stood  in  beads  of  moisture  on  his  fore 
head,  at  every  pore  perspiring,  while  an  icy 
chill  and  burning  heat  swiftly  alternated  on 


his  flushed  and  fevered  face,  the  fire  of  pas 
sion  over  and  physical  weakness  coming 
back  upon  him  ;  'air,  air  1  I  must  have  air 
and  exercise.  This  is  too  much  for  my  poor 
frame  and  weakened  body.  The  streets  by 
this  time  are  descried— a  quiet  walk  will 
compose  my  disordered  mind;  but,  first,  back 
with  thee,  demon,  to  thy  cell,'  with  a  fierce 
mplmsis  he  said,  as  with  a  nervous  limb  he 
ifted  the  f.tal  bag  and  hurled  the  jingling 
coin  within  the  iron  safe,  with  a  shudder  of 
abhorrence  called  forth  by  tho  very  act. 

Then,  as  if  eager  to  shut  out  even  the 
mere  sight  of  the  wealth  that  had  so  tempted 
lim,  he  hurriedly  closed  the  safe  door  and 
re-locked  it,  in  his  impatience  to  begone,  ne 
glecting,  however,  to  withdraw  and  conceal 
the  key. 

And  now,  at  last,  to  cool  my  beating 
pulse,  and  find  some  means  to  distract  me 
from  reflection.  Heaven  knows,  after  such 
a  scene,  I  need  it  1* 

And,  first  carefully  securing  the  store  in 
liis  absence,  not  leaving  the  spot,  from  sheer 
force  of  habit,  until,  by  examination  that  all 
was  '  safe  for  the  night,'  he  turned  from  the 
building,  and  strode  rapidly  down  the  street ; 
but,  dcspiln  this  circumspection,  th^re  was 
one  thing  he  had  forgotten, — the  key  of  the 
safe. 

Fatal  omission  !  but  he  knew  it  not ;  nor 
once  suspected  how  strangely  it  was  destined 
to  color  future  events— to  what  unforseen  re 
sults  it  was  to  lead. 

But  leaving  these  shortly  to  developc  them 
selves,  we  must  follow  the  hero  of  our  first 
chapter  in  his  course,  ns  with  a  pace  by  no 
means  measured  he  now  takes  his  way  along 
through  tho  deserted  streets  of  tho  night- 
hushed  city. 

Thus  it  was  that  he  hurried  on,  objectless 
and  purposeless,  as  concerned  his  destination, 
anxious  only  to  drown  thejgbt  in  action,  till 
at  length  it  was  with  fomelhing  bordering  on 
a  start  of  surprise,  that  he  found  himself  on 
Churlestown  Bridge. 


KIT  CARSON. 


Beyond,  separated  from  old  Boston  by  the 
(lowing  waters  of  Charles  River,  Charlostown 
with  its  glorious  monument,  Cambridge  with 
its  proud  universities,  were  seen. 

Almost  gasping  for  breath,  panting  with 
haste,  ho  bont  his  uneven  steps  aoroas  tho 
bridge,  trusting  to  Iho  change  of  sceno  to 
work  tlint  composure  of  mind  \\o  found  It  im 
possible,  by  the  force  of  will  to  acquire.  Dut 
in  vain  t 

Tho  cool  river  air  brought  with  it  no  vo- 
fri'Hhiii}'  halm  to  hi*  burning  brow  j  tho  eoft 
sighing  of  thn  runhln/j  wntoru  horn  no  (tooth 
ing  munia  to  hi»  »n,r;  n  full,  unnbMructnd 
prospect  of  tho  clonr  blue  heavens  overhead 
had  no  powor  to  lingo,  with  nn  emollient 
cast,  his  «piriis;  for  there,  beyond  thnt 
rolling  river,  boldly  deftnod  against  ihonpnrk- 
ling  sky,  uproHO  tho  dnrk  and  gloomy  towoin 
of  Charlestown  pri«on,  like  tho  grim,  forbid- 
ding  wulla  of  Homo  fublod  giunt'ncaNtle  of  old 
—and  sudden  nnd  startling  over  his  HOU!  camo 
tho  thought,  that  but  foe  tho  fortunate  triumph 
of  rectitude,  ho  inijfht  hnvo  boun  UN  branded 
ocoupnnt I 

That  thought  was  torture  ;  it  wns  tho  burn 
ing  lava  poured  from  the  volcuno  of  bin  mind, 
thrown  into  fresh  eruption  j  and  now,  los 
ing,  completely,  all  control  of  himself,  more 
heedlessly  than  ever  ho  datshud  onward,  at  a 
furious  pace,  that  caused  more  than  one  be- 
^lutcd  passer  by  to  turn  in  wonder  and  alarm 
'to  p:\zQ  after  him. 

Holuro  he  WHS  conscious  of  tho  fuel,  ho  had 
left  Chnrlcmown  itself  behind  and  entered  tho 
suburbs  of  Old  Cambridge.  Only  when,  re- 
called  to  himself  by  a  strange  incident,  did 
ho  dwcovcr  that  ho  stood  within  tho  precincts 
of  tho  University  grounds,  tho  fne  old  pnrk  of 
Harvard  College,  with  its  branching  elms  and 
shaded  walks. 

It  was  the  sound  of  voices  near  that  had 
aroused  him— voices  in  loud  and  impetuous 
altercation. 

Startled  at  once,  his  mind,  for  tho  first  time 
experiencing  the  "aii.ly  sought  distraction,  1  e 


hurried  down  an  adjoining  avenue,  guided  by 
his  ear,  which  told  him  ho  was  rapidly  npj 
proaching  tho  immediate  scene  of  tho  eon* 
test. 

As  he  drew  nearer  and  nearer,  oaths  and 
angry  defiances  were  distinguishable,  nnd  n 
another  instant  lie  had  emerged  upon  a  scene 
that  flrod  him  at  tho  night. 

Contending,  hand-to-hand,  with  some  twenty 
or  more  young  men  in  tho  dress  of  the  Uni 
versity,  wore  hnlf-a-doxon-fltout  follows  whom 
it  was  by  no  moans  difllcult  to  identify  nsap. 
premier*,  N}, op-liny*  and  ofllco-ludu,  tho  two 
ronpuctivo  parlies  ongngod  in  a  mont  deter 
mined  set-to,  waging  dcnpcrato  warfare  'with 
Horculoitn  fist*, clubs,  stones,  nnd  bludgeons, 
or  wlmtover  oihor  rudo  weapons  chance  sup. 
pliedi 

1  lla  I  a  fi;{ht  between  tho  students  of  Har 
vard  and  tho  *prcnt!co  boyal*  ejaculated  the 
inurchunt's  clerk,  who,  in  an  instant,  saw  and 
comprehended  all. 

1  A  rofugo,'  ho  continued,  *  a  refuge  I  must 
have  from  rny  bittnr  thought*,  if  it  |>o  but  to 
mingle  in  this  mnd  hrirwl.  Ye*,  by  Heaven  I 
I,  too,  will  i-iiicr  tho  lists—  iuul,.  ha*!  tho  odds 
aro  Madly  ngniiiitt  tho  'prontieo  Inds— it  shall 
bo  upon  tho  side  of  tho  weaker  party.  Any 
thing  to  save  me  from  myself  and  drown  the 
reflections  that  nearly  drive  me  mad.  Have 
at  them,  then  !' 

And  with  tho  word*  ho  dashed  into  the 
thickest  of  tho  conflict. 

Right  and  left  ho  fought,  mixing  with  his 
allies.  Spite  of  tho  odds  ngamst  thera,  the 
apprentices  gallantly  hold  tliuir  own,  with  tho 
spirit  and  resolution  which  havo  over  been  so 
oddly  characteristic  of  such  contest  between 
tho  parties. 

These  famous  combats,  outvicing  the  feud 
of  the  Capulets  and  Montagues,  between  tho 
wild  collegians  and  tho  rival  city  boys,  grow 
ing  out  of  not  altogether  unnatural  feelings  of 
jealousy  and  envy  on  ono  part,  and  perhaps 
of  overbearing  arrogance,  on  tho  other  hand, 
in  the  students  them.selves— though  less  fre- 


KIT  CARSON. 


13 


quent  than  formerly,  are  still  proverbial,  and 
of  occasional  occurrence  even  now. 

Often  in  these  singular  collisions,  in  which 
gentlemen's  sons  were  found  pitting  them 
selves  against  the  grocers'  boys  and  stou*  ap 
prentices,  it  happened  that  the  former  got  the 
worstv  of  tho  encounter,  for  generally  t  icy 
were  the  smaller  party;  but  here  in  the  pre 
sent  instance  tho  case  was  direct  tho  re 
verse. 

It  was  with  a  loud  shout  that  the  weaker 
party  welcomed  the  advent  of  an  unexpected 
friend  ;  while,  angry  at  tho  interference,  tho 
opposing  student)",  \vifh  loud  reiterated  cries 
of  defiance,  made  a  rush  upon  tho  new  ally 
of  the  enemy  and  the  young  clerk  found  him 
self  beset  on  all  sides. 

Twice  had  ho  been  nearly  thrown  to  the 
ground,  by  repeated  blows  from  a  club  in  the 
hand  of  one  of  tho  foremost  antagonists  ;  but 
grappling  with  their  author,  ho  quickly  hurled 
him  beneath  his  feet,  and  in  another  moment 
had  felled  a  second  of  the  students  who  barred 
his  progress. 

The  apprentices  began  to  gather  courage 
afresh,  and  made  a  yctntoutor  stand,  repeat 
edly  incited  to  new  exertions  by  tho  honrso 
voice  of  one  of*  their  party  who  seemed  by 
common  consent  to  bo  their  leader  in  tho 
frny. 

Though  an  ally  and  lender  among  them,  ho 
was  evidently  not  one  of  them  ;  forwhilo  all 
tho  rest  were  mere  boys,  comparatively,  this 
porsonngo  was  a  mnn,  at  Ica^t  forty  years  of 
age  who,  witti  his  Herculean  make  and  coarse 
garb,  seemed  to  be  some  stout  laborer  who 
had  n  ado.common  cause  with  tho  apprentices 
against  their  rivals,  probably  from  mutual 
dislike,  and  who,  from  his  superior  strength 
and  years  had  tacitly  been  assigned  tho  lead 
ership. 

-This  man  was  engaged,  at  the  moment  in 
which  he  first  exited  the  notice  of  our  lost- 
comer,  in  a  fierce  struggle  with  one  of  tho 
most  active  and  determined  of  the  students, 
who  seemed,  also,  to  occupy  ihe  position  of 


temporary  chief  among  his  own  party  ;  and 
from  what  tho  merchant's  clerk  could  per 
ceive  that  the  contest  between  these  two 
threatened  to  be  even  more  obstinate  than  was 
tho  case  with  the  other  belligerents  ;  but  be- 
foro  he  had  time  for  further  observation,  he 
was  forced,  in  self  defence  to  tjrn  his  atten 
tion  to  himself,  and  almost  at  the  same  in 
stant,  from  some  one  amid  his  own  little  band, 
contending  against  such  unequal  numbers, 
tho  sudden  cry  was  raised,— 

'  Tho  police  !  the  police  1* 

"Tin  a  false  alarm!'  shouted  tho  stu 
dents,  derisively.  '  Tho  cowards—  they  ore 
giving  in  I1 

1  Cowards  in  your  teeth  !  we're  not  afraid, 
and  you  know  it.  Give  it  to  tho  college  up 
starts — trounce  them  wefl,'  yelled  back  the 
opposite  party,  indignant  ot  tho  stinging 
taunt. 

But  in  the  same  breith  tho  voice  of  tho 
leader  of  tho  students  was  heard,  shout  to 
friends  and  foes, — 

4  No,  nc !  It  15  the  police  !  do  you  not  hear 
tho  rattles — down  the  street  yonder  ?' 

1  Iliuk  t— yes,  wo  do  hear.  What's  to  bo 
done,  what's  to  bo  done,  Harry  ?  Come, 
you're  our  captain  to-night,'  cried  a  dozen  of 
the  speaker's  party. 

'  Hist,  then  1  tho  watchmen  arc  coming— 
you  must  fly,  all  of  you  I  Hark  yo,  my  fine 
lads*,  friends  and  enemies  both  1  wo  must  dis 
perse,  every  soul  of  us,  if  we  do  not  wish  to 
sco  the  msido  of  tho  station-house  to-morrow, 
for  this  night's  lark !  We'll  fight  out  this 
quarrel  seme  other  time — it  was  not  of  our 
seeking,  at  ail  events, — but  come,  brave  sol 
diers  of  Harvard  1  let's  away  !'  called  out  tho 
student,  in  n  clear,  manly  voice. 

1  Done  P  repeated  both  parties,  almost  with 
one  voice. 

All  turned  to  make  good  their  escape,  all 
save  the  stout  fellow  in  the  laborer's  dress 
who,  with  a  ferocious  oath,  had  thrown  him 
self  suddenly  forward  upon  his  late  antagon 
ist,  at  the  very  instant  the  young  leader  of  the 


14 


KIT  CARBON. 


student  band  likewise  turned  to  follow  there- 
treat  of  his  companions,  and  roughly  seizing 
the  youth  by  the  throat,  the  man  by  a  strong 
effort,  bore  him  back  across  his  own  powerful 
knee,  and  dashed  his  clenched  hnnd  with  its 
full  force  in  the  other's  exposed  face. 

Tho  student,  hulf-stunned  by  the  shock, 
sunk  from  his  assailant's  knee,  breathless  to 
the  earth,  and  scarcely  hud  hi?  body  touched 
the  sod,  when  the  boll-sumo  muscular  knee 
was  bent  upon  hie  breast  as  if  to  hold  him 
down. 

What  was  the  startling  surprise  of  the  mer 
chant's  clork,  when  he  saw  tho  Herculean  la 
borer  kneeling  on  the  panting  chest  of  tho 
prostrate  youth,  with  two  powerful  hands 
clutching  the  student's  throat,  in  the  act  of 
strangulation !  •  »• 

Tho  astounded  spectator  could  ncarce  credit 
his  senses,  KO  startled  was  ho  by  the  sight. — 
But  tho  voice  of  humanity  claimed  precedence 
before  all  other  emotions,  and  with  one  swift, 
determined  bound,  he  gained  tho  side  of 
tho  prostrate  youth. 

Nut  an  instant  too  soon  was  he  I  Stretched 
on  tho  green  sward  of  tho  park,  his  eyes  glar 
ing  und  bloodshot,  his  countenance  a  purple 
J'ue,  rapidly  verging  on  the  deathly  black  of 
tiuflbcation,  his  tongue  protruding  from  his 
discolored  lips,  on  which  inarticulate  Bounds 
vainly  struggled  for  stilled  utterance— a  help 
less  object,  a  ghastly  sight,  the  strangling  stu 
dent  lay ! 

One  low  cry  of  horror,  one  wild  burst  of 
indignation,  and  with  upliited  arm,  and  strain 
ing  norvo,  und  heart  on  fire,  tho  generous  sue- 
toror  had  sprung  upon  tho  w.otch,  and,  full 
ing,  with  his  concentrated  force  upon  tho 
head  of  tho  kneeling  man,  tho  whole  crush 
ing  weight  of  his  body  descended  felling  the 
other  senseless  at  the  side  of  his  hulf-sufi'o- 
cated  victim. 

When  at  length  tho  young  student,  whose 
narrow  escape  from  death,  in  one  of  its  most 
dreadful  forms,  we  have  chronicled,  began  to 
recover  from  the  fearful  effect  of  his  partial 


strangulation,  he  first  opened  bis  eyes  on  the 
form  of  the  merchant's  clerk,  supported  in  his 
arms. 

4  Ha  !  Eugene  Lincoln  ?     You  here  P 
1  Harry — Harry  Vernon  1 — my  dear,  only 
friend  1' 

Were  tho  alternate  exclamations— first  of 
tho  young  collegian,  then  of  his  rescuer,  who 
bent  over  him. 

1  This  is  a  strange  meeting,  Hurry,'  added 
tho  last  speaker. 

'  Strange,  strange,  indeed !  Bv  Heaven, 
I  believe  the  blood-thirsty  rascal  would  have 
strangled  mo  !' 

4  Ho  would — ho  would  ;  and  you,  in  a  mo 
ment  more,  have  been  past  all  help,'  was  the 
impressive  response.1 

•  Confusion  to  tho  rascal  1  what  could  have 
so  possessed  the  man  ?'  ejaculated  the  young 
stu-Jent ;  *  but,  I  see,  ho  must  huve  been  in- 
toxicated.' 

4  Probably — and  this  unhuppy  brawl  nearly 
lost  you  your  life  to  the  blind  fury  of  a  drunken 
rioter  P 

1 1  know  it,  and  may  thank  only  your  timely 
assistance,  my  dear  friend,'  grutefully  replied 
tho  student. 

1  O  Hurry  Vernon,  will  you  never  learn  to 
tame  that  wild  spirit  of  yours,  and  cease  to  ex 
pose  yourself  to  tho  dangers  and  follies  in 
which  your  bold,  adventurous  na.ure  over 
makes  you  assume  tho  lead,  and  the  boldest 
yield  you  the  precedence?  With  your  wealth, 
your  talents,  your  noble  spirit,  why  will  you 
thus  heedlessly  endanger  so  much.  Be  warn 
ed,  Vernon,  my  friend,  by  mo— I  am  older 
than  you,  more  experienced — I  know  your 
warm,  impetuous  disposition,  your  native  en 
thusiasm  und  your  high,  proud  heart,'  urged 
the  fervent  counsellor,  earnestly.  '  O,  then, 
beware  P 

The  young  collegian  caught  his  faithful 
friend's  hand  and  wrung  it  warmly,  as  ho  feel 
ingly  said, — 

4 1  feel,  I  appreciate  you?  generous  consider 
ation,  my  dear  Vernon.     But  banish  such  up- 


KIT  CARSON. 


prehensions,  friend  of  mine,'  added  gaily  the 
young  speaker,  with  a  cheering  warmth  and 
frankness  in  his  tones,  which  had  n  bold  and 
•muly  richness  in  their  every  mellow  accent. 
'  Il-'rry  Vernon  is  no  spoiled  child  of  for 
tune,  lie  may  be  a  little  wild,  a  little  reek- 
ess,  too,  perchance — but  he  is  no  profligate. 
There  is  full  time  enough  to  settle  down — the 
heir  to  thousands  and  the  boy  of  eighteen  need 
be  in  no  very  pressing  haste,  my  good  Lin 
coln,  methinks.' 

'  The  heir  to  thousands!  yes,  yes,'  repeat 
ed  Lincoln,  *  Providence  be  praised  that  it  is 
so,  and  the  best  and  only  friend  spared  to  me, 
save  a  dear  sister,  thus  raised  above  the  har 
rowing  curse  of  want  and  care,'  he  murmur 
ed,  as  to  himself.  *  Fortunate,  indeed,  for  you 
— though  you  may  luck  the  consciousness  of 
its  full  value — that  you  were  born  tho  heir  to 
a  rich  family.' 

The  student  started  slightly  as  ho  replied 
to  the  remark, — 

*  I  an  not  tho  heir  to  a  rich  family — I  mean 
I  am  not  the  born  heir ' 

1  How  !  you  are  an  only  child—an  only 
son,  are  you  not  ?'  interrupted  the  other,  with 
surprise. 

'  Yes — and  yet,  not  yes,  cither.  There 
was  another  child — a  brother,  but ' 

'  lla!  what  cf  him?     A  brother,  do  you 

»yr 

'  Yes,  but  strange  circumstance 1  know 

not  that  I  ought  to  mention  it ' 

He  paused,  hesitated. 

*  Hist,  Lincoln  !  hist  t  I  am  about  to  con 
fide  to  you,  my  nearest  friend  and  confidant, 
a  secret  that  1  have  been  bidden  never  to 
speak,  or  at  least,  all  \  know  concerning  that 
secret.' 

And  the  voice  of  the  earnest  student  sank 
to  a  meaning  whisper. 

•What  mean  you,  Vernon?'  demanded 
Lincoln,  with  breathless  interest  in  his  words 
and  in  his  tones. 

Those  of  tho   evidently  excited     student 


were  yet  more   deeply  impressive,  as  ho  re 
plied,— 

*  This,  Lincoln,  this — yet,  ere  I  breathe  the 
frail  word,  remember  that  with  you  the  se 
cret  is  to  rest.  No,  Lincoln,  no;  I  am  not 
tho  only,  nor  the^rsf-born  of  the  family  ;  ono 
other  there  was,  one  whom  I  can  distinctly 
call  to  mind,  at  times,  in  childhood,  as  older 
than  mysdf ;  but,  suddenly  and  unaccount 
ably,  I  missed  him  ;  strangely  my  brother  had 
disappeared  from  his  home ;  of  that  disappear 
ance  I  never  could  gain  any  explanation — for 
strangest  of  all  1  whenever  I  sought  from  my 
father  to  learn  some  cause  or  reason  for  this 
extraordinary  event,  1  was  met,  not  by  tears 
of  grief  and  sad  remembrance,  but  with  a 
seeming  start  of  fearful  surprise  and  a  stern 
order  never  to  dare  mention  the  subject 
again  ;  never  once  allude  to  it,  so  long  as 
I  lived! 

'Conceive,  Lincoln,  conceive  of  my  extre 
mity  of  bewilderment  and  wonder,  my  in 
extricable  perplexity  ;  for  ncv«r,  to  this  day, 
have  I  been  able  to  obtain  the  merest  light 
concerning  that  brother's  mysterious  disap 
pearance.' 

4  Mysterious,  inexplicable,  indeed  1  No  key 
to  a  mystery  so  strange  as  this  ?'  was  tho  in 
quiry. 

4  Not  the  slightest.  The  unaccountable 
disappearance,  thesecresy  maintained  toward 
me,  the  studied  silence  upon  a  subject  so  full 
of  exciting  interest  to  a  whole  family,  and 
the  peremptory  interdiction  ol  recurring  to 
that  which  naturally  must  call  forth  such 
curious  and  eager  inquiry,  have  nt  all  times 
excited  me  almost  beyond  endurance.  And 
can  you  wonder,  considering  everything,  that 
it  is  so  ?' 

*  I  only  wonder,  on  the  contrary,  at  your 
own  control  over  curiosity,  tho  burning  curi 
osity  that  must  tormen*  you.  You  must  be 
strong  in  self-command.  And  yet,  it  is  very 
strange;  why  huve  I  never  heard  one  word 
of  all  this  before?' 

'  Because  of  the  imperative  command.     I 


KIT  CARSON. 


long  questioned  with  myself  whether  I  should 
break  it  to  you  at  oil,  though  we  have  been 
bosom  friends  for  years.* 

1  And  I — am  I  the  only  being  to  whom 
you * 

*  No— I  know  what  you  would  ask.  There 
is  yet  another  * 

4  And  that  other  is * 

'  Your  sister.* 

1  Hn  !'  exclaimed  Eugene. 

'  Why  do  you  start  ?'  resumed  the  student. 
4  To  her,  also ' 

The  sentence  was  not  completed.  The 
merchant's  clerk  had  nervously  grasped  his 
friend's  arm,  nnd  with  his  lips  sternly  com 
pressed,  was  gazing  intently  into  the  student's 
•tartled  face.  His  voice  was  husky  as  ho 
sa«d,  while,  tremulous  with  excitement,  wero 
his  words, — 

1  My  sister— you  have  seen  her,  then,  onco 
more  ?  Tell  mo,  Henry  Vernon,  tell  me  why 
is  it  that  you  thus  seek  her  out  ?  Answer  me, 
truly,  Harry.1 

It  was  with  a  look  of  half  wonder  that  the 
youth  replied, — 

4  Because— because  I  Jove  her,  Lincoln.— 
How  can  you  oak  ?  what  else  should  draw  mo 
to  her  side  ?' 

4  Hark,  Henry  Vornon,  hearken  to  mo !  — 
You  nre  young  and  heedless — you  have  the 
reputation  of  being  wild — perhaps  you  are 
dissipated — how  do  I  know  but  that  you  now 
seek ' 

4  Lincoln — my  friend  !'  remonstrated  the 
boy. 

1  Nay,  hear  mo  !  For  all  that  I  may  know 
of  your  habits,  you  may  be — mark  me,  you 
may  be,  like  so  many  of  the  young  men  who 
fill  our  universities,  fortune  courted  sons, — a 
roue  and  a  libertine.* 
4  Eugene !' 

1  One  moment  holdj — you  may  bo  such,  I 
say — 'tis  possible— possible,  only.  Still,  'tis 
a  brother's  duty  U>  guard  even  against  that 
possibility.  .In  seeking  my  sister's  society, — 
in  wealth  and  station  so  greatly  your  inferior, 


tiie  rich  student's  object,  might  well  seem  to 
be  her  ruin  and         * 

4  Stop,  sir,  you  have  gone  far  enough— 
too  far  already,  sir !'  interposed  Vernon, 
abruptly,  with  a  firm  and  decided  air.  'In 
your  generous  concern  for  a  dear  sister,  you 
may  presume  even  too  greatly  on  the  forbear 
ance  of  a  friend.  I  tell  you,  Eugene  Lin 
coln,  you  have  mistaken  me,  though  it  be  but 
by  a  passing  thought.  Sooner  than  wrong  in 
word  or  act  your  gi»  itle  sister,  I  would  freely, 
gladly,  have  surif  .dcrcd  the  life  one  moment 
since  preserved  by  you.  Is  this  tho  way  that 
Henry  Vernon  has  learned  to  show  his  grati 
tude — to  prove  tho  pure  love  he  feels  for  one 
so  dear  to  you  ?  would  this  be  the  Henry 
Vernon  you  have  knov/n  so  long  ?  And  here 
I  tell  you,  to  your  face,  Eugene,  that  if  any 
other  than  you  had  dared  to  breathe  that  dark 
suspicion,  I  would  have  struck  him  dead  nt  my 
feet !  No,  no,  Eugene  Lincoln  you  wronged  . 
me  there.' 

4  I  did  !— indeed  I  did.  I  do  believe  you, 
from  my  very  he".rt  I  do,1  fervently  iterated 
his  companion^  convinced  by  his  proud  sin 
cerity  of  manner ;  '  forgive  me  for  the  doubts 
— I  ahuuld  huvo  thought  of  your  noble  nature 
and  scouted  tho  fear  at  once.  Hut,  as  plainly 
as  you  yourself  have  spoken,  do  I  now  de 
clare  to  you,  that  had  you  one  thought  of  evil 
toward  my  cherished  Ellen,  friendship  itself 
should  not  havo  saved  you  from  a  brother's 
vengeance,  though  that  vengeance  had  for 
ever  lost  mo  the  only  faithful  friend  I  ever 
know.  Hut  enough  1 — say  wo  aro  friends 
onco  more  again  ?' 

4  There  i.s  my  hand  on  it,'  replied  the  frank 
and  open-hearfed  Veroon,  who  was  not  one 
to  decline  the  honestly  proffered  reconcilia 
tion.  4  It  is  forgotten,  and but  hist :  thero 

is  the  sound  of  feet  down  the  avenue — hush  ! 
do  you  not  hear  men  running?  Ila!  the 
watch,  the  watch! — we  had  quite  forgotten  ! 
By  Heaven,  Uiey  are  upon  us ! — they  are 
upon  us!' 

4  No,  no!  there  is  yet  time — we  may  yetx 


KIT  CARSON. 


17 


»cnpo  pursuit  P   cried  his  companion    hue* 
edly. 

4  True,  if  we  are  speedy  !  but  we  must  be 
eet  of  foot  and  fly  different  ways.  As  for 
»is  drunken  friend  of  mine,  we  must  leave 

im but  what  has  become  of  the  fellow  7 

one,  by  my  faith  !' 


Turning  in  surprise,  both  saw  lhat,  taking 
dvnntage  of  their  engrossing  converse,  the 
ullen  man  had  so  far  recovered,  in  the  brief 
nterim  thai  had  elapsed,  as  lo  rise  and  steal 
juietly  away,  unperceived  until  now,  when, 
lisappenring  down  a  distant  walk,  they  caught 
i  glimpse  of  his  receding  figure,  staggering 
ind  reeling  as  he  went — but  whether  from  the 
jflects  of  his  stunning  fall  or  the  remains  ol 
ntoxication,  ihe  Iwo  friends  neither  knew  nor 
lalted  lo  inquire. 

The  young  men  now  realized  at  once  thai 
10  time  was  lobe  losl,  for,  ihrough  the  win- 
ler- bared  branches  of  the  leafless  trees,  the 
dark  forms  of  the  hurrying  police  began  one 
by  one  to  appear 

Waving  his  hand  to  his  friend, Vcrnon  darted 
away  in  the  direction  of  the  neighboring  col 
leges,  whither  his  fugitive  fellow  studentalmd 
in  iho  intervening  lime  preceded  him ;  and 
Lincoln,  ones  more  left  alono,  diverging  at 
right  angles  from  the  fast-approaching  watch, 
crossed,  with  a  fleet  foot,  the  grounds  of  Old 
Hurvard,  and  leaping  the  college  wall  with  in 
agility  that  conquered  the  difficulty  of  the 
feat,  ihc  repeating  invader  of  the  university's 
precincts,  had  soon  distanced  the  close  pur 
suing  police,  and  complelely  thrown  them  off 
the  scent, 

Across  to  Charlestown,  over  Charleslown 
Bridge,  inlo  Washington  at.,  once  more,  suc 
cessively  ho  passed,  and  in  an  hour  regained 
at  length  the  store  whence  he  had  that  night 
departed,  little  >  nlicipjiing  the  adventure  that 
had  befallen  him. 

The  well-known  chimes  of  the  Old  South 
were  just  striking  the  first  hour  of  the  morn 
ing,  as  he  entered,  and,  with  a  alight  sigh,  re- 
locked  the  door. 


Wearied  c"d  overcome  with  the  varied  oc 
currences  of  the  last  few  hours,  he  re-entered 
the  little  counting-room,  in  which  we  beheld 
him  for  the  first  lime,  and  prepared  to  com- 
mil  himself  to  repose,  for  by  night  il  was  his 
resting-place  and  chamber,  as  well  as  the 
scene  of  his  daily  toils. 

Drawing  out  the  ample  sofa-bedstead,  that 
habitually  served  him  for  a  couch,  he  prcpar- 
ed  tordtiro  to  its  welcome  oblivion  of  all  life's 
cnres  and  sorrows. 

More  ihan  once,  in  his  various  movements, 
hnd  he  pnssed,  unsuspiciously,  the  ponderous 
iron  safe,  with  the  key  so  thoughllessly  left 
in  ihe  guarded  lock. 

Cculd  he  but  once  have  dreampt  how  soon 
the  consequences  of  that  unwitting,  uncon 
scious  negligence,  were  to  manifest  them 
selves,  his  rest  would  have  been  even  more 
uneasy,  his  slumbers  yet  more  broken  than 
they  really  were. 

He  lay,  tossing  uneasily  upon  his  bed,  for 
nearly  half  an  hour  in  disquietude.  Hiscyer 
would  close,  then  reopen,  then  close  ogain— 

fickle  and  changing  as  a  coquetle's  smile. 

And  yel  the  finger  of  fatigue  was  heavy  upon 
him. 

Ho  would  have  given  world  for  one  hours 
unbroken,  refreshing  resl,  but  »he  disturbed 
slate  of  his  chaolic  mind  farbadcit.  GradufS 
ly,  however,  a  drowsiness  stole  slowly  over 
him,  and  sweet  slumber  begun  to  be  less  ob 
durate. 

At  lenglh  he  slept,  but  it  was  only  by  fits 
ahd  starts.  Two  or  three  times  he  opened 
his  heavy  eyelids,  at  close  intervals,  fancying 
he  heard  a  noise. 

This  he  naturally  attributed  to  an  over-ex 
cited  imagination,  unstrung  by  the  events  ot 
ihe  pasi  night,  and  once,  only  once,  his  alien- 
lion  was  ptvrtialiy  caught  by  a  peculiar  sound 
that  seemed  to  strike  dully  on  his  ear.  But 
strengthening  drowsiness  had  deadened  his 
senses  by  this  time,  and  turning  over,  me 
chanically,  he  faced  the  wall  opposite,  and 


18 


KIT  CARSON. 


•gain  lost  himself,  though  various  disturbing 
noisoi  appeared  ever  to  haunt  hit  restless 
dreamt. 

Thin  wan  of  brief  continuance,  however, 
lie  wai  nrounod  nt  la»t— suddenly  aroused- 
by  a  strange  sensation  of  chilling  cold,  as  if 
a  flood  ol  outer  air  hud  poured  in  upon  his 
portion. 

Tlio  stupor  of  sleep  full  upon  him,  he  slug- 
giihly  started  up  in  the  bed,  and  with  a  va 
cant  look  gized  wonderingly  around.  Tho 
fresh  air  completely  scattered  sleep  from  his 
sealed  eyilida,  however,  and  left  him  shiver 
ing  and  shuddering  with  the  same  dreamy 
conaciousncaa  of  freezing  chill,  tho  same  icy 
feeling. 

Thoroughly  awakened,  the  succeeding  mo* 
moot  heard,  clearly  and  distinctly,  a  Hound 
that  startled  him. 

Thut  startling  sound,  that  icy  chill,  both 
seemed  to  proceed  from  tho  wall,  the  oppo. 
•ito  wall  toward  which  the  rentiers  sleeper  had 
turned  liin  facu. 

Between  the  bed,  his  anxious  vision  and  tho 
wall,  tho  high  desk  at  which  he  hnd  boon 
writing,  intervened,  completely  shutting  tho 
latter  of  tho  three  out  from  his  view ;  fur  hi* 
couch  occupied  tho  farther  corner  of  tho 
counting-room,  commanding,  nevertheless  a 
full  prospect  of  tho  extensive  salesroom  bo* 
yond,  though  so  placed  a*  to  preclude  moro 
than  a  partial  survey  ol  tho  smaller  apart* 


ment  itself,  in  consequence  of  tho  obstruction 
th  the  vision,  interposed  by  the  massive  CB- 
critoir. 

Tho  nemo  of  seeing  wan  at  fault,  for  the 
gnu-light  had  been,  of  course  extinguished, 
nnd  tho  store  was  in  darkness.  Abruptly, 
however,  a  bright  flood  of  moonlight  follow 
ed  a  sharp  crash,— whence  coming  he  could 
not  divine,  and  ho  looked  in  eager  expectancy 
about  him. 

Still,  Htrnnge  as  it  appeared,  he  saw  nothing 
to  surprise  him  ;  yet  thence,  from  the  wall 
opposite,  tho  current  of  cold  air,  tho  sudden 
moonlight,  the  strange,  startling  sound  that  he 
hud  lieuril,  nil  scorned  to  spring,  'i  hat  Bound 
itself,  ho  fancied,  was  the  jingling  of  precious 
coin  I 

And  then,  at  that  solf-anm*  instant,  from 
tho  g!u»wy  surface  of  tho  'tell-tale  mirror,  fur 
udown  the  long  sulc8-room,  ho  saw,  reflected 
back  through  the  store's  whole  distance,  tho 
bent  figure  of  n  man  kneeling  before  tho  safe, 
with  the  iron  door  half  open,  nnd  one  rough 
hand  still  on  tho  key  which  it  had  turned, 
while  on  tho  golden  treasure  it  no  longer 
guarded,  two  rull'nn  eyes  looked  covetously 
int 

Tho  whole  truth  burst  upon  his  mind— the 
key  of  tho  Salamander  had  been  forgotten  in 
tho  lock— tho  store  had  been  forced  by  bur 
glars,  and  the  safe,  with  its  golden  thousands, 
was  at  their  mercy  ! 


KIT  CARSON. 


The  Fugitive  Student— A  Thrilling  Tra 
gedy— Secret  Sorrows  of  the  Kick—A 
Family  Mystery— An  Adventurous  Re 
solve—A  Plot. 


T  once  we  must  now 
return    to    the    young 
'/Cambridge  student, — 
'•  whose    abrupt   parting 
•'  with  his  fel'ow-fugiiive 
'and  the  forced  flight  of 
both,  have  been  already  narrate. 

'  Ha  !  ha  !  a  pretty  chase  I  have  led  them,' 
was  the  exulting  exclamation  of  the  dashing 
Harry  Vernon,  a  short  time  later,  as  he  emerg 
ed  from  the  temporary  concealment  he  had 
sought  among  the  intricacies  of  the  College 
buildings,  to  whose  friendly  shelter  he  had 
been  pursued. 

As  he  came  forth  from  the  shadows  of  the 
overhanging  walls,  he  halted,  pausing  to 
listen. 

The  distant  receding  tread  of  the  foiled  po 
lice  in  retreat  was  faintly  to  be  heard ;  the 
party  of  students  who  preceded  him  had  some 
time  since  disappeared,  earlier  effecting  their 
escape  ;  and  the  last  tardy  lagger  knew  that 
he  was  safe  at  last  Skirting  one  of  the  wings 
of  the  venerable  pile,  and  by  a  circuitous 
route  approaching  an  arched  doorway,  heap- 
plied  his  hand  quickly  and  confidently  to  the 
handle  of  the  door. 


To  his  evident  chagrin  it  refused,  repeat 
edly,  to  yield. 

1  Confusion  !'  he  muttered  ;  '  the  door  is 
locked,  the  porter  long  since  asleep ;  those 
thoughtless  fellows  have  forgotten  to  leave  the 
bolt-jnshot;  or,  not  missing  me  in  their  pre- 
cipimte  haste,  have  secured  it,  supposing  all 
safely  housed.  At  this  hour  of  the  night  there 
is  no  gaining  admittance,  hero  or  elsewhere- 
and  I  must  pass  the  remainder  in  tho  open 

air  perforce.  A  pleasant  prospect,  truly, 

especially  as  I  happen  to  be  rather  fatigued 
with  this  precious  adventure  of  ours,  and  feel 
decidedly  sleepy  in  consequence  !  But  stop, 
surely  that  was  my  own  horse,'  he  abruptly 
exclaimed,  as  a  shrill  neig1),  at  no  great  dis. 
tance,  reached  his  ear. 

1  The  poor  beast  1  he  must  be  cared  for 

he  does  not  relish  his  strange  stall  under  yon 
der  trees,  any  more  than  his  master  is  like  to 
be  enchanted  with  this  night's  hard  fare  ;  I 
had  quite  forgotten  him,'  pursued  the  student 
in  the  same  merry  mood;  '  or,  rather,  this 
night's  mnd  riot  has  made  me  lose  sight  not 
only  of  him,  but  of  the  pretty  Ellen,  even,  to 
whose  sweet  presence  he  bore  me  but  this 
evening.  Heigho  !  the  poor  steed  generally 
meets  with  but  sorry  fare  when  its  rider  goes 
a  wooing.  Ah,  I  have  it.' 

Bonding  his  steps  briskly  forward  in  the 
direction  of  a  neighboring  grove,  he  soon  re 
turned,  leading  a  spirited  bay  by  the  bridle,  his 
hand  patting  tho  darker  mane  which  floated 
in  the  night-wind  from  the  superbly-arched 
neck  of  the  splendid  animal,  which  whinnied 


20 


KIT  CARSON. 


with  delight  at  hit  master1!  well-known  tone 
and  kindly  caress. 

1  Now,  my  brave  nag  and  faithful  servant, 
we  must  both  bo  astir  again ;  we  cannot  re- 
main  lioro  to  catch  our  deaths  of  cold,  thut  is 
certain.  There  is,  then,  no  alternative  but 
to  pass  the  night  is  iho  saddle.  Ha  1  ha  !  the 
heir  to  a  hundred  thousand  compelled  to  wan 
der  houseless  in  the  streets  of  his  native  town, 
hoigho !' 

And  laughing  merrily  at  the  odd  conceit, 
he  bounded  into  the  saddle  and  gaily  shook 
the  rein. 

The  horse  bounded  on.  There  was  nearly 
the  whole  extent  of  the  grounds  to  cross,  ere 
he  reached  the  highway.  However,  the  hour 
was  very  late — long  past  midnight— and  he 
met  no  one  in  his  way  ;  only  once  he  thought 
he  saw  a  dark  figure  moving  along  in  the  road, 
ahead. 

At  a  quiet  trot  he  leisurely  proceeded  on, 
revolving  in  his  mind  the  ouridus  adventure 
that  had  forced  him  to  pass  in  the  saddle  the 
time  allotted  to  the  couch  ;  his  horse's  foot 
steps  dully  echoed  back  the  hard  turf,  but 
loud  enough  to  give  warning  of  the  horseman1! 
advance. 

Clear  and  cold  was  the  night ;  only  a  few 
days  previous  the  snows  of  -winter  had 
whitened  the  earth  beneath  tho  animal's  feet ; 
but  to  a  general  thaw  had  that  night  succeed 
ed  a  thick  frost,  that  had  loft  the  ground, 
under  its  impress,  as  hurd  as  adamant.  In. 
deed,  so  chilly  was  the  atmosphere,  that  Vcr- 
non,  as  ho  went  on,  drew,  with  a  slight  shiver 
closor  still,  around  his  slight  but  tall  and  grace 
ful  figure,  tho  long,  student's  cloak  which  ho 
wore  over  his  usual  dross ;  together  with  tho 
peculiar  conical  hat  once  BO  much  affected 
by  the  collegians  of  Cambridge,  nnd  by  which 
they  are  still  wont  to  distinguish  themselves, 
on  certain  occasions.  To  this  day  it  is  well 
known  as  the  '  Student's  Hat ;'  and  from  bo* 
neath  its  rounded  rim,  and  down  the  nock  of 
Henry  Vernon,  in  long  and  graceful  curls  fell 
his  rich  black  hair,  finely  sotting  off  the  strik 


ingly  handsome  countenance,  with  its  dark, 
sparkling  eyes,  its  frank  and  op«n  brow :  its 
firmly  marked  chin,  bespeaking- decision,  and 
finely-curved  mouth,  just  darkened  with  tho 
down  of  dawning  manhood  ;  tho  jetty  hue  of 
tho  budding  mountacho,  heightening  in  con* 
trust  tho  pearly  whiteness  of  teeth  that  were 
parted  in  a  natural  smile  of  easy  good-humor 
and  manly  nonchalance,  called  upon  his  arch 
lip  at  the  thought  of  his  peculiar  and  novel 
situation. 

'There  are  clouds  coming  *up— I  should 
not  bo  surprised  if  it  word  to  tmow  ere  long. 
My  good  steed,  you  and  I  are  assuredly  dcs* 
lined  to  have  a  pleasant  snow-storm  to  add  to 
other  comforts  ;  truly,  wo  havo  fullen  upon  a 
pretty  run  of  luck  this  precious  night  1'  jo 
cosely  added  the  student;  *  and — but  aha! 
hero  we  are  at  last  on  the  open  highway.  On 
brave  nag,  on,  but  reverently,  for  we  are 
bidding  farewell  to  classic  ground.* 

They  had  reached  the  boundaries  of  the 
university.  Tho  public  road  lay  before 
them. 

Vernon  touched  his  horse  lightly  with  his 
heel,  the  animal  prepared  to  leap  at  once  into 
tho  broad  highway.  Hut  at  the  very  moment 
that  Vernon  took  a  tighter  hold  on  his  rein 
arid  tho  horse  rose  (or  tho  spring,  a  dark  form 
started  up  right  in  his  path  and  seized  tho  bit 
with  an  iron  hand  ! 

Tho  astonished  boast  recoiled,  affrighted, 
on  his  haunches. 

Instantly,  however,  ere  young  Vernon's  cry 
of  startled  surprise  had  died  on  his  lips,  a 
pistol-flash  blindod  him,  and  a  ball  whistled 
past  his  ear.  The  aim  had  been  tru*  but  the 
sudden  shying  of  the  startled  steed  h  d  saved 
its  living  mark  1 

An  oath,  a  curse,  rang  on  the  air,  no 
second  pistol  was  drawn,  no  second  weapon 
presented  with  tho  same  murderouspurpose  ; 
but  yet  tho  imperilled  student  saw  the  dark 
figure's  finger  press  again  the  same  trigger, 
and  thrilling  with  his  danger,  quick  as  ..„ 
ho  marked  the  assassin's  aim,  and  swervin 


^n"7',  >m\ 


— p       «»  ,.  fM\\liljfo 

t*;>--:' 

v-j<i%itf%H 


HARRY  VERNON, 


'  SinOTING    HIS    INTENDED  MURDERER 


»f^i?\l4 


iW    CoUcge-Gnranis  of  Old  Harvard. 


KIT  CARSON. 


aside  his  head  from  the  gaping  muzzle's 
mouth,  he  caught  with  a  lightning  movement, 
the  murderous  hand,  but  not  until  it  had  been 
discharged, 

With  a  crashing  sound  it]  shirered  a  dry 
limb  from  the  parent  tree,  as  it  sped  on  its 
way,  and  glancing  ofl'nt  a  sharp  angle,  buried 
itself  deep  In  thegnnrlod  trunk  of  a  withered 
oak,  leaving  its  tracer  along  tho  ploughod-up 
bark. 

Tho  color  led  the  Hushed  face  of  the  stu 
dent,  hut  not  his  courage.  With  tho  same 
cool  intrepidity  with  which  he  had  seized  the 
uvs;iNsin'n  nrm,  untiinidtitod  by  that  fearful 
warning  of  what  hi*  fate  mi^ht  hnvo  boon,  ho 
Hhiflud  bin  hold  to  the  wri.il,  and  from  tlml  to 
the  butt  of  the  smoking  piatol,  which  bo  ktill 
grasped,  and  despite  the  strugglea  of  his  foe, 
succeeded  in  so  far  wringing  round  both  limb 
and  weapon,  as  to  bring  tho  butt  itself  within 
•his  own  grasp,  in  tho  resolute  eflbrt  to  wrest 
from  tho  villain  tho  means  of  executing  his 
hollL-ih  intent. 

In  tho  momentary  but  furious  struggle  for 
its  possession,  the  muzzle  having  thus  become 
turned  for  tho  instant  to  tho  breast  of  the  ruf 
fian,  tho  finger  of  Vcrnon  came  in  contact 
,  with  tho  twice-pulled  trigger,  when  to  his  un 
utterable  amazement,  tho  already  twice-dis 
charged  pistol  accidentally  went  off,  and  its 
chat  g  3  passed  into  tho  neck  of  the  intended 
murderer,  who,  relinquishing  his  hold,  sank 
with  a  yell  of  terrific  agony  upon  his  knee, 
almost  beneath  tho  horsed  hoofs, — then,  with 
one  hand  pressed  with  spasmodic  energy 
ngniriBt  his  blood-dyed  forehead,  fell  with  one 
I  low  moan  backward  1 

Like  a  marble  statue,  petrified  with  horror, 
utterly  motionless,  his  eyes  closed  to  shut  out 
the  ghastly  spectacle,  his  arm,  with  its  firmly- 
clutched  weapon,  stiffened  by  the  same  feel- 
ing,  in  its  outstretched  attitude,  eat  the  stu 
dent  on  his  horse ! 

[See  Jtngravinff.] 
And  while  euch  was  the  frightful  scene,  a 


strango  and  thrilling  circumstance,  deepened 
the  dark  tableau, 

The  pistol,  still  outstretched  In  that  para* 
lysod  grasp,  continued  to  discharge  bull  after 
ball,  with  winning  sound  and  thickening 
smoke,  until  full  four  death-winped  bullets 
had  pierced  the  grovelling  body  of  the  wound 
ed  wretch ! 

At  length  from  that  soul.frcey.ing  stupor 
tho  involuntary  homicide  awoke,  HO  fur  us  to 
turn  upon  tho  fu'.al  weapon  in  hts  hand  a  look 
of  horrified  inquiry. 

Tho  rruth  flashed  upon  him  ;  it  was  not  a 
doublo-bnrrelled  pistol,  as  ho  had  first  coVi- 
ccivcd.  when  it  was  twico  in  succcsHion  dis 
charged  at  him,  No,  it  wni  a  far  more  fear 
ful  weapon, — ono  of  Colt's  nix-bnrrcllcd  re 
volver*,  t'io  deadliest  of  invented  inHtrumonti 
of  death  I  His  petrified  finger  had  been  glued, 
as  it  were,  to  tho  trig;jor,  and  involuntarily  fired 
tho  four  ronviining  bulls,  each  of  which  alone 
carried  destruction  to  tho  doomed  victim  of 
his  own  villainy. 

But  the  final  surprise  was  yet  to  como,  ac, 
bending  down  from  his  saddle,  ho  sought  to 
examine  tho  state  of  the  stricken  man. 

Tho  faint  light  of  the  moonbeams  disclosed 
to  his  blood-shot  eyes,  the  form  and  face  of 
the  rival  leader  of  tho  rioters,  the  burly  la 
borer,  who,  in  his  supposed  intoxication,  had 
attempted  to  strangle  him  in  the  mad  fury  of 
the  fight. 

Springing  from  his  horse,  Veinon  bent  over 
tho  dying  man. 

'  Miserable  man !  who  are  you  ?'  ho  in  a 
thrilling  tone  exclaimed,  '  and  what  prompted 
you  to  this  dark  act?' 

The  other  gasped,  for  breath,  and  seemed 
vainly  struggling  for  speech. 

1  Speak  1  was  it  robbery— cupidity-^that 
tempted  you,  or  was  it  drunken  vengeance  T 
Speuk  !  I  freely  forgive  you  the  fell  attempt ; 
think  that  you  may  bo  asking  of  Heaven  the 
same,  ere  to-morrow's  sun  rises,  arid  propi 
tiate  its  mercy  by  confession,  at  least.  That 
Heaven  has  willed  that,  by  my  hand,  you 


KIT  CARSON. 


should  full — though  not,  indeed,  by  my  own 
intent.' 

The  fainting  wretch  with  difficulty  raised 
himself  partly  upon  his  'arm,  slowly  falter 
ing, — 

•  Your  name — yourcwn  name  is — is  Ver- 
non — Henry  Vernon  T' 

Again  the  unfortunate  man  fell  back,  with 
a  groan. 

'  Ha  I  you  know  me,  then  ?  but  no,  he  must 
have  learned  it  from  the  r.oters,'  added  the 
student,  aside.  '  Hut  why  this  strange  ma 
lignity  toward  me  ?  What  could  lead  you  to 
the  fatal  attempt  that  trade  me,  not  your  vic 
tim,  but  your  murderer  ?'  in  wild  agitation  he 
demanded. 

"With  the  strangely  revived  strength  which 
precedes  dissolution,  the  assassin,  half-starting 
up,  gripped  out, — 

'  Your  undo  !  your  uncle  !  Henry  Vernon 
— hold  down  your  head— come  nearer — yet 
nearer.  It  was  a  plot — a  plot — nil  a  plot! — 
the  riot,  the  riot  itself  was  a  part  of  that  plot, 
urged  on  by  me,  tho  tool.  Iin  object, — to  stab 
you  in  a  street  fight,  and  thus  prevent  dis 
covery.  Failing  in  this — in  this  cunning 
snare,  I  —  I  waylaid  you  ho  re.  You  know 

tho  rest;  all  save  —  save O  God  !  that 

pain  !'  screamed  the  writhing  suflbrcr.  '  Your 
uncle,  your  uncle,  boy  !  beware — I — 1  warn 

you  to :* 

And  the  broath  loft,  with  tho  words,  his 
body — the  death  r;iule  rang  in  his  throat. 

He  to  whom  the  deceased  had  breathed  out 
his  dying  confession,  wailed  for  tnc  words  as 
yet  unspoken — but  to  mortals  the  dead  never 
speak. 

1  Dead '. — and  his  talc  half  finished  !'  mur 
mured  the  student,  who,  to  himself,  seemed 
in  a  dream  ;  '  but  enough  is  left  for  surmise  ; 
enough  spoken  to  place  me*  on  the  scent.  My 
uncle,  my  miser  uncle  1  ond  has  your  avarice 
even  stooped  to  this  ?  Home ! — thither  am  I 
now  summoned  !' 

One  last  look  at  tho  dead  man's  body — 
one  last  glance  at  tho  dead  man's  face ;— a 


world  of  wild  emotion  in  each  repetition  of 
that  brief  survey  and  the  no  longer  gay  and 
reckless  student,  re-mounting  his  horse,  gave 
the  rein  to  the  good  steed  and  dashed  rabidly 
away. 

The  approaching  snow-storm,  of  which  the 
overcast  Heavens  had  previously  given  him 
the  unerring  auguries,  was  now  close  at  hand, 
and  even  as  the  nnimal  leaped  forward,  the 
first  few  flakes  began  to  fall,  and  leave  behind 
the  impress  of  his  hoof*. 

Ere  half  the  way  to  tho  adjoining  city  had 
been  measured,  both  horse  and  rider  were 
white  with  the  driving  sleet,  that  fell  thick 
and  fast  around,  as  the  student  galloped  mad 
ly  on,  nor  once  halted  in  his  swift  career  un 
til  he  reached,  at  length,  Charlestown 
Bridge. 

The  heaviest  snow-storm  of  the  season 
clogged  up  the  streets  and  pavements  of  tho 
great  city,  and  the  whitened  house-tops  wcro 
like  BO  many  sheets  of  ivory  in  tho  glancing 
rays  of  the  morning  sun,  when  a  young  man 
hastily  ascended  tno  stately  steps  of  a  splen 
did  mansion,  and  was  instantly  admitted  by 
tho  obsequious  footman  of  one  of  tho  most 
noted  fashionables  of  'Deacon-street 

Tho  shrewd  reader  need  not  be  told,  that 
it  was  none  other  than  Henry  Vernon  in  tho 
aristocratic  homo  of  his  nabob  father.  Learn 
ing,  from  a  hurried  question  from  the  servant, 
that  tho  family  were  pnrtaking  of  tho  morn 
ing  meal,  he  prepared  to  descend  at  once  to 
the  breakfast-room. 

Made  aware,  by  a  single  glanco  at  the  mag 
nificent  pier-glass,  as  ho  passed  irom  the 
drawing-room,  that  his  face  was  still  pale  and 
his  eye  still  glaring,  he  stopped  for  a  moment 
to  collect  and  compose  himself  for  meeting 
tho  family  circle. 

How  f.ir  ho  succeeded  in  banishing  tho 
traces  of  a  disordered  mind,  however,  was  at 
once  announced  by  a  hurried  exclamation 
of,- 

•  Henry!  Henry  P 


KIT  CARSON. 


•  The  words  were  in  the  alarmed  tones  a 
mother's  voice  only  Knows,  and  the  whole 
party  sat  gazing  in  mute  wonder  at  the  un- 
usual  aspect  of  tho  intruder. 

To  the  latter,  the  commotion  caused  by  his 
appearance  was  no  marvel ;  he  had  himself 
been  startled  by  its  wildnesa,  which,  however, 
tho  mirros  had  flattered  than  otherwise,  so 
that  ho  was  not  fully  aware  of  how  much  it 
startled, 

It  was  in  a  tone  loss  indicative  of  ulurm, 
but  still  marked  by  earnest  inquiry,  that  the 
father  asked, — 

'  Henry,  what  is  tho  meaning  of  thin— what 
has  occurred  ?  Your  cheek  hus  lout  its  color, 
and  your  lip  is  ashy  palo ;  you  have  all  tho 
vigils  of  violent  mid  recent  uxciioinunt  about 
you !' 

1 1  doubt  it  not,  sir,'  answered  the  young 
man,  calmly. 

'Hal  that  quiet  tone  contrasts  strangely 
with  your  blanched  brow  and  haggard  luce. 
Henry,  I  must  know  what  has  happened,  to 
work,  in  NO  short  a  time,  a  revolution  so  com* 
l>lcto  in  you  ?' 

1  Yea,  Henry,  yen,'  urged  the  anxious  mo 
ther,  '  cotifidu  in  us— let  your  parents  know 
all  |  concoul  nothing,  my  boy  i  J«  it/  who 
faltered,  •  the  result,  merely,  of  a  night'*  dis- 
dlpation — perhaps  some  youthful  indiscretion 
—or— or — no,  1  can  not  believe  it  of  you,  my 
poblo  boy  I — u— a  rriiiif  7' 

1  Critno  I'  echoed  tho  son,  almost  iiiilig. 
nantly.  '  Mother,  mother !  when  Henry  Ver- 
non  stoops  to  crime,  he  will  have  ceased  to 
bo  your  son  1'  was  the  firm  and  proud  re- 
ply.  ^ 

For  a  moment  ho  paused  in  doop  thought, 
then  turning  to  them  again  hid  countenance, 
he  said, — 

*  Enough,  my  parents  ;  let  me  at  once  dis 
pel  this  cruel  suspicion.  1  should  have  been 
more  weary  in  appearing  before  you  ;  1  should 
not  have  suffered  you  to  see  mo  thus.  But 
the  act  is  now  beyond  re-cull,  and  though  I 
may  not  retrieve  that  error,  I  at  least  can  now 


tell  you  that  which  at  one*  will  quiet  that 
hasty  feor,  though  it  may  luave  you  to  con 
flicting  doubts  and  anxious  speculations,—/ 
mutt  leave  Boston  /' 

Mad  ho  spoken  to  his  bewildered  listeners 
of  suicide  instead,  they  could  not  have  been 
more  utterly  confounded  than  at  that  decla 
ration. 

1  Leave  Boston  1'  at  length  echoed  the  ns> 
tounded  father.  'Leave  college,  Henry  ?— 
are  you  mad  ?' 

'  No,  sir,  I  am  not — though  this  haggard 
face,  and  that  strange  announcement  mny 
well  m:  em  to  indicate  it.  I  repeat,  MI,  I  mu»t 
leuvo  Harvard  and  quit  this  city  as  soon  us 
possible,  aye,  sir,  before  tho  snow  that  full 
tho  punt  night  shall  mult  from  yonder 
ground ' 

'  Henry — my  son  !' 

'  *  Do  not,  do  not  interrupt  me,  sir.  I  must 
not  explain  my  reasons — enough  that  for  tho 
present  1  muHt  abandon  home,  friends,  plea* 
sure,  all ' 

1  Stop,  mad  boy  !  stop          * 

1  Enough,  sir,  that  'tis  necessity,  iron  ncccs* 
sfty,  that  summons  me  away.  Enough,  my 
mother— last  of  all,  but  flrnt  in  consequence 
— thut  'tin  a  strung*',  stern  fato  which  notimtes 
your  non,  not  ai.y  fault  or  misdeed  of  hiit  own 
— ah  1  my  dearest  parents,  did  you  but  know 
the  events  of  the  last  night,  the  startling  oc- 
ourrnnct'N  thnt  have  left  their  truer*  here  upon 
my  face,  you  would  uequit  mo  of  ull  blumo, 
and  only  pity  me.' 

His  drooping  form,  his  downcast  cyo,  his 
mournful  tone  as  he  muttered  those  words, 
were  powerful  in  their  impression  on  those 
who  heard.  To  a  mothor'*  heart  they  spoke, 
at  least,  conviction  ;  as  that  mother  mur 
mured,—  i 

1  My  poor,  poor  boy,  I  do  believe  you  I* 
and  rising,  wound  her  arms,  in  fondness, 
around  his  neck. 

But  a  father's  sterner  nature  xvai  not  so 
easily  satisfied,— 

'Your  motives!  your  motives,  boy,  for  this 


KIT  CARSON. 


23 


unheard-of  step.  At  onco  disclose  your  se 
cret  reasons.  I  insist  upon  it — nay,  I  order 
you !' 

*  Father,  do  you  wish  to  force  me  to  dis- 
obeditncc?'  was  the  excited    son's  meaning 
demand. 

*  Obstinate,  obdurate  boy  !'  uttered  the  dis 
pleased  parent. 

4  Nny,  sir,  one  day.  you  will  concede  that 
your  son  was  righi,  right  even  in  concealing 
this,  from  those  who  have  the  best  cluim  to 
know.  I  speak  not  idly,  sir — us  Heaven  is 
my  witness,  the  time  will  yet  come  when 
all 

lie  stopt  abruptly  in  his  emphatic  speech 
as  he  suddenly  saw  by  his  father's  abstracted 
f«ce  and  averted  eye  that  he  was  unheard, 
unheeded  by  him;  while  as  he  gazed  the  lat 
ter,  wholly  unconscious  of  what  he  said,  mut 
tered  absently, — 

4  Strange,  strange  fatality!' 

The  singular  expression  of  the  features,  the 
sudden  contortion  of  the  muscles  of  the  face 
which  accompanied  the  exclamation,  seemed 
to  strike  the  son. 

1 1  have  seen  that  strange  look  before,1  he 
murmured  quickly,  '  but  never  save  when 
excited  on  a  peculiar  subject.  Can  it  be,'  he 
added,  thoughtfully,  4  tnat  this  unexpected 
communication  in  reference  to  myself,  hus 
connected  that  topic  with"  mo  in  his  mind? 
If  eo,  then  here  is  a  favorable  opportunity  I 
have  long  sought  in  vain  ;  and  ha  1  I  will  not 
lose  it.' 

Then  with  the  eagerness  of  a  suddenly  sug 
gested  thought,  he  said  aloud,  addressing  his 
father, — 

'  Strange  fatality,  my  father  ?  what  mean 
you  by  these  words  ?  Is  it,  that  the  thought 
of  thus  losing  for  a  while  one  son,  recalls  the 
merr.ory  of  another?' 

The  elder  Vernon  sprang  lo  his  feet,  as  if 
stung  by  a  serpent. 

*  Another  1   he  ejaculated,  '  another  J  ha  1 
boy  1     Utter  that  word  again  at  your  peril — 
who  taught  you  to  ?peak  that  forbidden  word? 


Henry,  Henry,  have  I  not  commanded  you 
never  to  allude  to  this,  never  onco  'o  breathe 
the  subject  to  mo  or  any  living  being?  And 
do  you  dare  disobey  me,  dare  defy  my  ex 
press  commands?' 

His  features  livid  with  anger,  each  convuls 
ed  with  struggling  passion,  his  hands  clench 
ed  until  the  nails  pierced  the  bleeding  skin, 
the  speaker,  the  very  picture  of  ungovernable 
agitation,  stood  erect  and  glaring  upon  his 
son  ! 

But  for  an  instant  only — the  next  moment 
he  turned  that  withering  glance  on  his  wife, 
exclaiming, — 

1  Woman  1  is  this  your  handiwork  1  is  it 
you  that  have  whispered  this  in  your  fpoiled 
son's  cars — from  you  that  ho  has  gained  the 
vague  hint  that  must  lead  U,  the  inquiries  ? 
Is  it  you,  then,  that  have  suffered  even  the 
faintest  breath  to  escape  you,  of  that  which 
was  to  re  min  a  secret  with  us  both  till  death  t 
Answer  me,  woman  1' 

4  Husband,  husband  ?' murmured,  depreca 
tingly,  the  gentle  wife,  appalled  by  his  vehe- 
menre. 

Ere  she  could  add  all  she  would  have  said, 
her  son  interposed, — 

4  Hold,  my-  father,  hold  1  You  wrong  her 
there.  She  never  betrayed  your  confidence, 
your  secret,  if  such  it  is — she  never  once  led 
to  that  subject,  nor  when  I  myself,  at  times, 
mooted  it,  did  she  ever  give  me  the  least  sat 
isfaction.1 

4  Ila  !  then  you  have  spoken  to  your  mother 
on  this  point,  frequently  ?'  said  the  father,  with 
a  strong  effort  to  control  his  increasing  agita 
tion. 

4 1  have,  sir,  I  have.  How  could  it  be  other 
wise  with  a  mother  whom  I  dearly  loved  and 
honored  ?  I  tell  you,  father,  from  my  verj 
boyhood  there  has  been  a  mystery  within 
this  family,  that  to  me  has  been  a  constant 
source  of  doubt  and  wonder,  and  anxious  per 
plexity.  Can  you — will  you — dare  you  deny 
that  once  1  had  a  brother!  Speak  1  I  entreat 
you!1  ,  ' 


KIT  CARSON. 


There  was  no  answer,  though  he  paused  in 
silent  expectation, 

.  *  Ah !  you  are  speechless,  you  give  me  no 
reply.  Dut  think  you  that  a  child  is  without 
memory  to  retain,  or  mind  to  comprehend, 
the  events  which  happen  in  its  little  world  ? 
No,  no ;  the  recollections  of  my  early  child 
hood  arc  vividly  impressed  upon  my  mind, 
and  most  distinct  among  them  is  the  remem 
brance  I  huvo  of  a  little  child  at  play  with 
me,  who  called  mo  his  '  little  brother,1  and 
used  to  lisp,  in  concert  with  my  own  infant 
lips, '  mamma.'  This,  and  more  I  can  very 
clearly  recall,  to  prove  that  I  am  not  an  only 
child — nor  your  first-born.  In  vain  I  perplex 
myself  to  understand  why  the  loss  of  a  child 
'should  bo  kept  so  profound  a  secret  in  a  fa 
mily,  and  even  the  very  fact  of  its  existence, 
sought  to  bo  disguised. 

4  Why,  why,  I  have  asked  myself  a  thou- 
•and  times  is  a  son  to  bo  kept  in  ignorance  of 
a  circumstance  that  concerns  him  so  vitally  ? 
Great  God,  only  think  of  it!  ho  ejaculated, 
impulbively  ;  '  but  for  childhood's  vivid  recol 
lections,  1  bhould  never  huvo  known  that  I 
had  ever  such  a  relative  as  u  brother  in  being 
•r-perhnps  it  would  have  been  better  had  a 
treacherous  memory  denied  mo  even  that 
limited  knowledge,  for  then  I  should  never 
have  been  thus  continually  tormented  by  con 
flicting  suspicions  or  devouring  curiosity,  re 
garding  that  ever  unexplained  disappear 
ance.' 

•  Suspicions !'  repeated  the  other,  with  a 
nervous  start ;  '  no,  no  ;  the  disguise,  the  de 
ceit,  the  delusion'of years,  that  crafty  crime! 
no,  no,  he  knowi  nothing,  nothing  of  that,' 
escaped  unconsciously  from  the  abstracted 
speakei's  lips.  '  To  her,  her  only,  are  they 
known — and  should  it  ever  be  discovered ! 
but,  no,  the  secret  is  safe  with  her.  Ha  !  ha, 
boy  listening  to  my  wanderigg  words?'  he 
sternly  demanded. 

4  Aye,  sir,  in  ihe  faint  hope  that  you  will 
give  me  the  cluu  io  them.  0  do  not  refuse 
me  this  last  appeal !  I  ieel,  indeed,  that  1 


cannot  leave  you,  till  this  strange  uncertainty 
is  at  least  in  some  measure  dispelled.  Had 
an  ordinary  fate  been  my  brother's  ;  had  he 
died  or  perished  by  some  accident,  or  did 
some  dreadful  uncertainly  cloud  his  fate;  or, 
if  living,  had  he  been  lost  or  stolen,  I  could 
easily  account,  in  some  such  way,  fur  the  dis 
appearance.  Say,  father,  Buy,  ere  1  leave 
you,  will  you  not  take  back  that' stern  denial, 
and  at  last  confide  ?' 

A  sudden  cry  from  his  mother,  at  this 
juncture  interrupted  the  son's  earnest  appeal. 
He  turned,  just  in  time  to  catch  within  his 
arms  his  father's  fulling  form. 

The  elder  Vcrnon,  overpowered  by  his 
emotions,  had  swooned. 

Shocked  by  this  unlooked-for  occurrence, 
yet  less  startled  than  they  might  have  been, 
from  their  knowledge  of  the  usual  effects  ot 
over  excitement  upon  his  peculiarly  nervous 
temperament,  Henry  and  his  mother,  in  alarm, 
rang  for  the  servants  to  come  to  the  assistance 
of  their  fainting  master ;  and  by  their  eager 
aid  the  unconscious  nabob  was  bore  tenderly 
to  his  room,  where  instant  and  powerful  res- 
torutives  wore  applied,  and  at  length,  with 
some  signs  of  success,  to  the  great  joy  of  wifo 
and  son. 

'Go  into  the  drawing-room,  Henry,1  said 
the  anxious  mother, '  and  there  wait  for  me. 
The  sight  of  you,  at  present,  may  only  renew 
his  agitation.  I  will  shortly  rejoin  you. — 
Your  father  is  in  no  danger — go,  my  dear 
boy,  go.' 

Tho  young  man  aware  that  his  father 
was  subject,  in  moments  of  violent  excite* 
mont,  to  those  nervous  fainting  file,  and  his 
mind  comparatively  easy  on  this  score,  de» 
scendcd  to  the  parlor  and  flung  himself  upon 
a  sofa,  in  momentary  expectation  of  his  mo 
ther's  return.  He  had  not  long  to  wait ; 
Mrs.  Vernon  speedily  reappeared,  and,  alone 
now  with  her  son,  drew  a  chair  close  beside 
him. 

'  Dear  boy,'  she  murmured,  in  a  choked 
voice,  *  I  can  scarce  believe  this  is  not  all  a 


KIT  CARSON. 


27 


dream— your  strange  appearance  here,  this 
morning  ;  your  proposed  departure  or  flight, 
from  thi!  city  that  gave  you  birth — and  all 
this  for  reasons  which  you  persist  in  lading 
beneath  u'.ler  secresy.' 

*  Ay,  secrecy,  dear  mother  ;  secrecy  as  close 
as  that  with  which  my  father  has  seen  fit  to, 
hedge  round  that  which  well  I  may  term  the 
mystery  of  our  family.' 

'  llecur  to  that  no  more,  Iienry;  your  fa 
ther's  displeasure ' 

4  Enough  1  I  will  not,  if  only  for  your  sake, 
mother.  Curiosity  may  devour  me,  but  I  will 
never  thus  ofTcnd  you  ;  if  I  may  not  be  your 
confidant,  perish  forever  the  forbidden  topic  ! 
And  now,  to  change  the  subject,  where  is  my 
uncle  ?'  asked  the  student,  in  an  easy,  care 
less  manner. 

*  Your  uncle,  Iienry  1      He  is   in  liis  own 
room,  I  believe,  if  the  confusion  has  not  sum 
moned  him  from  it ;'  was  the  reply  of  the  lady 
— who  saw  not  the   latent   meaning  that   lay 
beneath  the  inquiry. 

*  He  seldom  stirs  abroad    now  ?'  inquired 
the  youth. 

1  Not  if  we  can  help  it,'  she  replied.   '  His 
infirmities  increase  with  his  gray  hairs,  and 
his  passion  of  avarice  has  become   a  species 
of  insanity.' 
4  Insanity  !' 

4  Yes,  such  it  is,  such  it  must  be  celled. — 
Every  day  beholds  him  more  penurious  and 
griping,  mote  miserly  than  before.  Every 
thing  that  he  can  convert  into  cash,  he  ap- 
prcpriates,  and  that  with  a  shrewdness  and 
cunning  that  surprise  even  your  father,  who 
ao  well  knows  him.  It  is  impossible  to  cure 
him  of  this  haVit;  his  deeply-pained  biother 
has  already  been  compelled  to  reimburse 
plundered  merchants  to  double  the  amount  o 
his  repeated  lacenies,  and  hush  the  matte 
up  as  well  as  he  might.1 

4  It  is  most  provoking,'  remarked  the  stu 
dent. 

'  It  is,  my  son  ;  it  is  a  constant  source  o 
anxiety  to  your  poor  father.     It  is  uselessa  I 


furnish  him  with  decent  clothes  or  the  means 

to  purchase  them  ;  the  first  are  exchanged  for 

gold,  the  other  is   added  to  his  secret  hoard- 

ngs  ;  and  he  goes   so   pootly   dressed  as  to 

II  to   overflowing,  the  measure  of  our  mor- 

fication.'  tfy 

{  Why,  then,  demanded  the  nephew, coolly, 
longer  suffer  him  to  remain  a  burden  upon 
ou  ?' 

4  He  is  your  uncle,  Henry,  your  father'u 
inly  brother,'  said  the  lady,  with  calm  dig- 
iity  ;  4  he  is  known  as  such — known  even  to 
>ur  fashionable  acquaintance,  who  affect  to 
ity  his  eccentricities  because  he  is  brother  to 
a  millionaire 

4  One  thing  I  have,  of  late  observed,  never- 
heless,'  pursued  she,  dropping  her  voice  to 
a  meaning  tone, — '  a  thing  perhaps,  that  I 
may  have  warned  you  of  before.  Your  uncle 
s  as  revengeful  as  he  is  miserly— I  can  see 
t  in  his  every  action  ;  so  great  is  the  ascend 
ancy  his  unfortunate  infirmity  of  mind  has 

ained  over  him,  that  I  am  convinced  that 
ie  would  not  scruple  at  any  means  to  grafify 
tither  of  those  passions.' 

4  Ha  !'  cried  Henry,  involuntarily — but  he 
mmediately  checked  himself,  and  waved  his 
mother  to  go  on. 

Even  so  ;  I  should  tremble  for  that  per 
son  who  should  chance  to  incur  his  dislike  or 
enmity,  or  prove  a  barrier  to  his  grasping 
avarice.' 

4  And  has  he  the  requisite  skill  to  cloak  his 
views  and  purposes,  think  you  ?'  asked  Harry, 
thoughtfully. 

4  You  mean  the  wily  craft  which  is  said  lo 
be  so  often  the  gift  of  insanity  ?  I  am  satis 
fied  of  it,  my  son  ;  the  (ox  is  not  more  artful 
than  is  your  miser  uncle.  Bulthid,  Henry,  is 
not  all, — within  a  very  few  days—I  know  not 
that  I  ought  to  mention  it — we  have  tried  to 

conceal  it ' 

•What,   my    mother,  what?'   interrupted 

Vernon,  whose   impnience   ill  brooked   the 

half- hesitating  tone  of   the   last   words,  for 

his  curiosity  had  been  additionally  increased 

by  her  manner. 


KIT  CARSON. 


'It  is  to  a  marked  change  in  his  deport 
ment  lately, .that  I  refer—  u  change  for  the 
worst,  decidedly,  He  has  become  unusually 
nervoas,  fretful  and  peevish  ;  ho  is  continual 
muttering  to  himself  of '  his  darling  gold,' 
d  his  mind  seems  to  be  full  of  some  new 
•  jhcme  which  engrosses  all  his  time  {pd 
thoughts.  I  fcnr  me  much  that  the  precau 
tions  your  father  has  taken  arc  in  vain,  and 
that  like  so  many  thousand  others  ho  is  labor 
ing  under ' 

Mia!  I  know  what  you  would  say — the 
C  lifornia  Gold  fever  1' 

«  The  same/  answered  the  lady,  with  a 
s  nilc— '  the  name  epidemic  which  has  sei/.cd 
Huoh  numbers,  and  which  has  proved  suffi 
ciently  fatal  to  the  young  and  adventurous. 
Think  what  must  be  the  effect  upon  one  of 
your  uncle's  grasping  character — the  demon 
of  avarice  roused  to  fury  by  the  mngic  talcs 
of  the  gold  discoveries,  the  soul  of  the  miser 
could  rent  in  no  paradise  like  this  clysium  of 
wonderous  wealth.' 

4  True,  mother,  true,'  abstractedly  mutter 
ed  Henry, 

1  And,'  pursued  the  mother, '  if  those  re 
ports  have  reached  hit  car,  os  I  nave  every 
reason  to  bulicvo  is  tho  case,  I  do  not  think 
any  earthly  power,  short  of  chains  or  a  prison, 
can  long  keep  him  hero,  With  his  accus 
tomed  cunning  and  secrecy,  ho  may  bo  now 
preparing.' 

Without  changing  a  muscle,  ihe  youth  had 
listened  to  tho  speaker,  nnd  now  in  in  a  mean* 
ing  tone  ho  said, — 

1  Now  listen  to  me,  mother,  I  have  heard 
you  out,  not  wilhou{  some  surprise,  I  confess, 
at  your  suspicions  regarding  Juhn  Veruon, 
my  uncle.  7,  <oo,  am  going  to  California  /' 
.  •  To  California  !  Henry  !'  iterated  Mrs.  Ver- 
non,  taken  completely  by  surprise,  '  To  Cal 
ifornia  ?' 

'  Yes,  mother/  in  the  same  calm  tone,  re 
plied  the  son. 

•  Good  Heaven  !  are  you  serious  ?  You— 
the  son  of  a  millionaire,  tho  child  of  luxury 


and  fortune  from  your  birth,  the  heir  to  a 
nabob's  wealth  I—you  go  to  California ! — this 
looks  almost  like  insanity.' 

'  I  go  not  to  enrich  myself — I  go  not  with  an 
avaricious  spirit  to  swell  an  already  princoly 
inheritance,' he  vehemently  exclaimed.  '  And 
•have  I  not  told  you  mother,  that  events,  into 
an  explanation  of  which  I  may  not  enter,  had 
rendered  absolutely  necessary  my  absence 
from  this  city  at  the  present  time.  Abroad, 
for  some  months,  for  a  yet  for  more,  perhaps 
1  muat  go,  when  tho  gold  frenzy  is  raging, 
when  ships  aro  Bailing  and  new  companies 
daily  forming  for  tho  fresh  found  El  Dorado,  ' 
when  every  town  and  hamlet  throughout  tho 
union's  length  and  breadth,  feeling  the  electric 
shock — what  time  no  auspicious,  what  rea- 
non  RO  plaubiblo,  for  suddenly  quitting  college 
and  leasing  home,  as  the  voyage  to  Sun  Fran 
cisco  and  the  Sacramento.  1  have  decided  ! 
The  gold  regions  of  California  shall  bo  my 
forcod  exile.' 

The  bewildered  mother  would  have  re 
monstrated,  but  bhu  could  only  faintly  bog 
of  him  to  surrender  tho  hazardous  design, 
and  repeat,— 

'  No,  no,  Henry,  my  son,  how  can  I  ever 
think  of  your  mingling  with  the  needy  and 
desperate  adventurers  who  aro  thronging  to 
those  shores  /' 

4  Not  so,  not  so,  dear  mother,*  said  tho 
youth,  wilh  energy.  '  Tho  worthless  and  the 
poor  cannot  command  tho  means  indispensa 
ble  to  the  undertaking,  It  is  not  of  this  class 
that  the  tide  of  emigration  draws  any  part  of 
its  current ;  it  is  from  the  moro  r  spcctublo 
and  elevated  portion  alone,  that  the  bands  of 
tho  Gold  Hunters  aro  made  up.  Mother,  I 
have  rouolved— in  six  days  a  vcsssel  leaves 
tlii.i  port— I  go  in  her,' 

In  vain  were  all  a  mother's  attempts  to  dis 
suade  him  from  his  purpose,  and  nothing  re 
mained  but  to  break  tho  intelligence-  to  her 
husband. 

Leaving  him,  with  a  recommendation  to 
seek  an  hour  or  two's  much-needed  repose 


KIT  CARSON. 


29 


after  all  the  fatigue  he  had  gone  through,  she 
then  s«. ught  the  chamber  of  the  elder  Vernon 
to  acquaint  him  of  the  contemplated  pro 
cedure. 

Tl«e  parting  advice  was  heeded  by  Henry 
Vernon,  whose  head  hnd  not  pressed  n  pillow 
in  forty-ei^ht  hours.  Passing  into  the  private 
sitting-room,  he  cast  1  H  wearied  form  upon  a 
velvet  ottoman,  and  tried  to  compose  himself 
to  sleep. 

On  his  way,  however,  ho  had  stepped  fora 
moment  into  tho  balcony,  whence  ho  had  a 
full  view  of  the  snow  strewn  Common  and 
whitened  streets,  and  as  he  passed  on  he  had 
muttered, — 

4  So  long  as  that  snow  remains  I  shall  be  in 
safety.1 

He  might  have  been  slumbering  for  pome 
three  hours,  when  he  awoke.  His  mother 
stood  beside  him,  and  as  his  unrlosinj  eyes 
met  hers,  tl.ey  fell  on  a  packet  she  held  in  her 
hand. 

1  Your  father  knows  all,  Henry ;  I  have  told 
him  of  your  resolution  :  and  if  you  must  leave 
ui  for  a  lime,  he  cannot  but  approve  of  your 
plan. 

'  But  this  is  not  all,  Henry,  a  change  has 
come  upon  him  ;  he  appears  to  have  altered 
his  mind  regarding  yourself  and  the  secret  he 
has  heretofore  been  so  solicitous  to  conceal, 
and  in  this  packet,  my  dear  boy,  you  will 
find  a  clue  to  to  the  whole  mystery.  But  one 
thing  mark,  my  child, — the  seals  of  this  par 
cel  are  not  to  be  broken  till  you  have  been 


ten  days  at  sea — on  no  account  are  its  secrets 
to  be  intruded  upon  till  then.  I  must  return 
to  your  sick  fa'her,  but  to-night  we  will  con 
verse  farther  on  this  mailer.  Till  ihen, 
adieu  !' 

Scarcely  had  she  left  the  room,  when  the 
stooping  form  of  a  white-haired  old  man,  with 
the  sharp  chin  of  nge,  and  deep-sunk  eyes 
that  twinkled  with  a  strange,  shrewd  expres 
sion,  beneath  his  bent  brows,  entered  the 
room. 

It  was  the  uncle  to  Henry  Vernon,  the 
gay,  generous  student. 

Avarice  was  stamped  on  every  pinched 
feature,  as  he  muttered,  as  was  his  usual  cus 
tom  ;  while,  with  hobbling  step,  he  conlinued 
to  advance. 

Vernon  feigned  sleep  ;  but  through  his  half- 
opened  eyes  he  saw  and  murked  the  sudden 
start  of  surprise  with  which  the  old  man 
noticed  him.  It  was  but  an  instant,  however, 
and  then  the  deceived  miser,  evidently  under 
the  impression  that  his  nephew  lay  in  a  deep 
sleep,  was  heard  muttering  gleefully, — 

1  Not  dead  !  not  dead  !  but  bound  for  Cali 
fornia  !  Aha!  I  have  a  scheme,  a  cunning 
scheme  1  'tis  better  than  the  last ;  yes,  yes, 
and  less  dangerous.  He !  he  1  he  goes  to 
Calijornia,  but  he  will  never  c  me  back 
alive  /' 

And  mumbling,  with  a  dry  chuckle,  the 
words,  the  miser  hobbled  ngain  from  the  room 
deeming  himself  unheard. 


30 


KIT  CARSON. 


ra. 

The  Burglary — The  Unerpccted  Surprises 
— '  Ho  !  for  California  /' — Preparations 
for  Departure— A  Sister's  Scheme. 


\  ACK,  with  the  generous 
reader,  we  must  go, 
!  without  farther  delay, 
[to  a  scene  and  a  char 
acter  already  too  long 
neglected,  in  a  moment 
of  thrilling  emergency. 

'A  housebreaker!  a  housebreaker!'  was 
the  astounded  exclamation  that  fell  from  the 
lips  of  Lincoln,  as  tha  friendly  mirror  gave 
back,  in  tell-tulo  reduction,  the  dark  form  of 
the  audacious  midnight  intruder.  But  caution 
suppressed  to  a  whisper,  the  words,  as  ho 
heard  the  burglar's  first  exulting  exclama 
tion, — 

4  The  fools !  they  have  left  the  so-fo-kcy 
in  the  lock  !' 

The  merchant's  clerk  sprang  from  the  bod  ; 
he  gained  his  fecf,  silently,  noiselessly.  How 
was  ho  to  act  ? 

It  was  a  startling  question— a  thrilling 
thought. 

The  interposing  escritor  was  still  between 
them  ;  still  impeded  a  view  of  the  kneeling 
man — it  was  only  in  the  massive  mirror,  the 
farthest  from  the  scene,  that  ho  could  catch 
a  glimpse  of  the  object,  observe  its  move 
ments. 

Another  and  yet  more  fixed  look  he  bent 


upon  that  strange,  mute  betrayer  of  an  in 
truder's  presence! 

Oh  his  knees,  before  the  open  safe,  the  bur- 
glr»D  was  still  seen ;  but  his  hnnd  had  now  re*  * 
linquishcd  its  hold  of  the  key  it  had  grasped, 
and  was  transferred,  like  its  companion  to  the 
more  tempting  interior.  And  again  was 
heard  the  jingle  of  the  precious  metal  with 
in  ! 

Stealthily,  with  hushed  breath,  barefooted 
as  he  was,  he  stole  with  cautious  steps  along, 
and  soon,  before  his  eyes,  the  whole  scene 
stared  him  in  the  face. 

On  the  floor,  beside  the  felonious  invader 
of  the  premises.  !ay  a  pistol  and  a  bowie- 
knife,  unheeded  by  their  owner,  whoso  glist 
ening  glance  were  bent  upon  the  contents  of 
the  strong  box,  exposed  in  its  dazzling  rich 
ness  to  his  enraptured  eyes/ 

The  overjoyed  robber  was  already  trans 
ferring  from  its  resting  place,  that  portion  of 
the  treasure  which  came  nearest  to  his  daring 
hand. 

No  time  was  to  be  lost  if  the  startled  Lin* 
coin  would  preserve  from  the  plunderer,  his 
employer*1  wealth.  Himself  unarmed,  what 
couiso  was  left  him  to  pursue?  The  thought 
of  springing  boldly  upon  the  burglar,  seizing 
his  weapons  and  taking  him  by  surprise,  and 
at  a  vantage  occurred  to  him  ;  but  one  glance 
at  the  powerful  make  of  his  expected  antago 
nist,  convinced  him,  that  those  iron  sinews, 
those  hardened  muscles  could  crush  him  as 
tas  ly  as  if  ho  were  a  child  ;  #nd  for  his  em 
ployers'  sake,  more  than  his  own  safety,  he  . 
took  timely  counsel  of  prudence,  and  held 


KIT  CARSON. 


31 


back — held  bock,  but  only  till  his  active  mi«d 
could  suggest  some  other  means,  some  more 
certain  way. 

A  ready  wit  was  not  long  at  fault.  He 
had  bethought  himself  of  a  plan  ;  though  (here 
was  hazard  in  it,  he  did  not  falter,  but  resolv 
ed  to  peril  all  upon  the  chance. 

Silently  retracing  his  way  to  the  bedside, 
ho  stripped  a  blanket  from  the  couch,  nnd  as 
quietly  returned,  undetected,  to  his  previous 
station. 

Just  as  his  foot  once  more  moved  forward, 
in  the  act  of  taking  a  single  step  in  advance, 
ho  perceived  that  his  shadow  lell  across  the 
floor,  reaching  almost  to  the  burglar's  side, 
and  that  another  pace  would  fling  its  shade 
dircctlj  before  the  fane  of  the  knee-ling  man. 
It  was  necessary  to  approach  without  start 
ling  the  other  ;  he  saw  but  one  apparent  way 
of  accomplishing  this,  and  that  was  by  rx 
changing,  for  a  creeping  posture,  his  erect 
advance. 

As  quickly  as  conceived  the  attempt  was 
made. 

'  Gold  !  solid  gold  P  he  heard  the  robber 
ejaculate  in  transports  of  covetous  delight,  as 
with  a  hand  that  shook  with  trembling  eager 
ness,  he  seized  a  bag  of  heavy  coin,  the  same 
that  had  tempted  the  merchant's  clerk ;  'a 
thousand  dollars  by  the  mark,1  he  cxultingly 
added,  as  he  examined  it,  at  the  same  time 
pushing  contemptuously  jisidc  a  liyer  61  sil 
ver  coin  and  a  pile  of  bank  notes  which  he 
had  first  grasped  in  his  indiscriminate  avidity. 
*  Pish  !  what  is  paltry  silver,  v.  hen  gold  also 
is  ready  to  your  hand  ?  And  these  bills  !  no, 
no,  I'll  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  cursed 
paper— it  often  tells  tales.  The  gold  1 — I II 
take  only  the  gold  !' 

Fire  bags  more  of  the  same  precious  metal 
were  quickly  added  by  the  depredator  to  his 
previous  prize,  andtie  was  preparing  to  select 
•till  a  sixth  and  a,  larger  one,  which  had  ex 
cited  also  his  cupidity. 

But  noiselessly,  silently,  stealthily,  at  that 
same  moment,  the  unsuspected  watcher  was 


stealing  upon  his  prey.  And  see  !  he  has  al 
most  reached  the  other's  side — is  at  his  very 
back,  undiscovered,  unsuspected. 

Emboldened  by  impunily  he  rises,  cautious 
ly  rises  for  the  final  eflbrt,  but  almost  at  the 
same  moment,  the  housebreaker  himself  sud 
denly  arose  to  his  feet,  causing  his  unseen 
companion  to  nearly  betray  himself  by  his 
start  of  surprise  :  idle,  however,  was  the  fear 
— the  unconscious  burglar  had  but  arisen  for 
the  purpose  of  gathering  up  his  golHen  plun 
der,  and  as  he  stooped  again  to  secure  about 
his  person  a  portion  of  his  prize,  just  as  a 
chuckling  laugh  followed  the  triumphant  gra- 
tulation, — 

'  Good  !  I  am  a  rich  man  for  life  1  Gold, 
all  gold,  pure  us  that  of  California!' 

There  was  the  sudden  sound  of  a  spring,  a 
bound,  the  rustling  of  something  as  ;l  whizzed 
through  tl'o  air,  and  the  unsuspicious  robber 
found  himself  in  an  instant  entangled,  half- 
suffocated  and  dragged  to  the  floor.  The 
captured  burglar's  head  and  limbs  were  en 
veloped  in  the  folds  of  the  blanket,  which 
Lincoln's  rapid  hand  »>ad  thrown  over  him, 
he  lost  his  footing  instantaneously  and  fell, 
incapable  of  resistance  or  escape  1' 

Savagely,  still,  hu  strove  to  struggle  in  his 
entanglement,  but  the  efforts  were  as  stifled 
as  his  smothered  curses — he  was  fairly  en 
trapped,  like  a  lion  in  the  toils,  a  wild  beast 
in  the  net  1 

His  rejoicing  captor  forcibly  dragged  him 
to  the  door  of  ths  cellar-way, and  from  thenco 
precipitated  him  headlong  down  the  dark 
abyss,  which  portal  was  immediately  closed 
and  locked  upon  th>3  now  completely  ensnared 
prisoner. 

Satisfied  of  the  security  of  his  captive,  and 
aware  that  he  could  now,  in  perfect  safety, 
proceed  to  leave  the  late  invaded  premises  to 
summon  aid,  the  clerk  boldly  sallied  forth  to 
procure  the  needed  assistance.  He  returned 
in  a  very  brief  time,  with  the  night-police  in 
sufficientforco  to  apprehend  the  housebreaker, 
who  was  found  partially  insensible  irom  his 


KIT  CARSON. 


fall,  nt  the  foot  of  the  collar  stairs,  and  not 
withstanding  the  most  desperate  Attempts  on 
the  part  of  the  itruggling  scoundrel  to  escape 
from  their  clutcho*,  he  was  finally  arrcited 
and  borne  off, 

The  examination  of  the  burglar,  Lincoln'* 
detention  nun  witness  before  the  magistrate, 
incl  the  criminal's  full  commitment  for  trinl, 
wore  the  events  of  (ho  subsequent  fuw  hours 
of  tho  morrow. 

Lincoln,  on  leaving  the  court-room,  at  tho 
conclunion,  had  just  parted  with  his  employer, 
who  was  loud  in  his  protestations  of  praise 
and  gratitude  to  his  faithful  clerk,  but  being 
a  nmn  of  penurious  disposition,  Lincoln  too 
well  know  his  character  to  indulge  tho  idle 
hopo  that  it  WOH  destined  to  prove  of  any  last- 
ing  advantage  to  himself. 

Ho  saw  At  onco  through  tho  hollow  hypo 
crisy  of  the  man,  whom  in  his  heart  he  had 
nlwnys  despised,  nor  was  he  sanguine  enough 
to  nttach  much  importance  to  his  wordy  gra 
titude,  ' 

The  sequel  proved  him  to  bo  quite  right, 
for  tho  only  shapo  that  it  manifested  itself  in, 
was  the  gcntrous  offer  of  which  his  magnani 
mous  employer  was  graciously  pleased  to 
make,  of  a  day  or  two's  furlough  from  tho 
cores  and  confinement  of  active  business, 

This  !H  no  fancy  sketch,  reader  I'  The  re- 
fpcctablo  head  of  the  wealthy  firm  in  ques 
tion  will  recognise  his  own  portrait,  These 
arc  true  plot. ires, 

This  astounding  liberality  |was  of  course 
duly  appreciated  by  its  fortunate  recipient  — 
Tho  ufternoon  and  evening  were  spent  in  a 
visit  to  his  younger  sis!or,  to  whoso  presence 
wo  will  not  nt  present  follow  him  |  but  tho 
next  moment  found  him,  from  tho  mero  iui- 
pnlue  of  long  habit,  retracing  hid  way  to  tho 
store,  which  for  so  many  weary  months  hud 
bcon  his  daily  resort, 

As  ho  repiitfiod  tho  old  South  in  his  return, 
his  eye  was  accidentally  caught  by  a  glaring 
handbill,  on  which,  in  mammoth  letters,  was 
printed,— 


•  •  BEST  CHANCE  FOR  THE  GOLD 
REGIONS? 

Tho  Splendid  Ship  S , 

To  Sail  in  Three  Days.' 

Ho  groaned  in  bitterness  of  spirit  and  passed 
on,  With  n  heart  full  of  despair,  he  once  moro 
darkened  tho  door  of  tho  proud  commercial 
houne,  which  two  nights  before  ho  had  saved 
from  ruin, 

Hardly  had  he  appeared,  when  he  was  sur 
rounded  with  earnest  and  sincere  congratula 
tions  from  his  friendly  fellow-clerks,  one  of 
whom  hastened  to  slip  into  his  hand  a  letter 
directed  to  him,  • 

In  no  littlo  purprino  lie  received  the  epis 
tle.  The  superscription  wan  in  no  unknown 
hand  ;  ho  recognised  instantly  tho  well  known 
characters  of  the  silent  partner  of  tho  firm. 

Scarce  knowing  what  to  think  or  to  expect, 
ho  broke  tho  noiil  and  read,— 

1  Mn,  LINCOLN,— 

1  Dear  Sir— I  have  learned, 
with  pleasure,  your  daring  and  gallant  de 
fence  of  our  establishment  from  the  crimiual 
designs  of  u  burglar,  on  the  night  of  the  — — 
inst.,and  with  equal  surprise  that  my  partner 
has  omitted  to,  testify  to  you,  in  some  sub 
stantial  manner,  our  sense  of  indebtedness 
for  tho  iucctimnble  ucrvico  you  have  rendered 
us,  . 

*  Allow,  me,  therefore,  at  onco  to  remedy 
tho  inadvertence,  and  manifest  to  yourself  my 
appreciation  of  your  manly  conduct,  as  well 
of  tho  signal  obligation  under  which  you 
have  placed  UM,  I  rejoice  to  mty,an  it  now  af- 
fordn  rno  an  opportunity  of  amuiring  you  of 
my  esteem  und  grutitutio. 

4  Having  understood  that  you  were  ambi 
tious  to  seek  tho  advancement  of  your  for 
tunes  in  tho  goldon  Kl  Dorado  that  so  many 
are  now  viewing  with  beotjng  hearts,  but  un 
fortunately  tl,  burred  the  brilliant  chance  by 
lack  of  tho  necessary  means,  I  beg  to  enclose 
this  trifle,  in  tho  fmndly  hopo  that  it  may 


KIT  CARSON. 


forward  your  views,  though  I  shall  never 
ceuse  to  regret  that  it  ir.ny  lose  us  the  valua 
ble  services  of  so  faithful  a  clerk,  and  hon 
orable  a  man,  as  you  have  recently  proved 
yourself. 

'  Your  true  friend, 

1  E.   L.  J.' 

A  check  for  a  thousand  dollars  fell  from 
the  letter! 

From  the  abyss  of  despondency  to  the 
pinnacle  of  hope,  from  despair's  dark  depths 
to  utter  happiness,  how  swift  the  leap,  how 
sudden  the  transition  ! 

The  emotions  of  Eugene  Lincoln  ore  not 
difficult  to  conceive,  though  to  him  the  truth 
was  hard  to  realize.  Joy,  douot,  astonish- 
merit,  by  turns,  predominated. 

Here,  then,  were  the  means  of  satisfying 
the  wish  born  of  a  generous  ambition,  but 
long  since  deserted  even  by  hope,  yet  how 

unexpected,  how  unlocked  for  a  blessing 

How  he  thanked  God  that  he  had  nobly  re 
sisted  the  fearful  temptalion  that  had  once  as 
sailed  him  ;  how  he  blessed  a  bounteous  Hea 
ven  lor  the  reward  that  now  crowned  his 
defiance  of  the  tempter. 

At  length  the  joyous  Lincoln  controlled  his 
transports  sufficiently  to  call  a  carriage,  and 
assuming  his  seat  within,  the  hackney  coach 
drove  to  the  destination  to  which  the  driver 
had  been  directed. 

The  vehicle,  in  the  course  of  a  half-hour, 
stopped  before  a  neat  little  cottage,  and  the 
passenger  eagerly  alighted  on  the  spot,  where 
a  near  prospect  of  the  stately  edifices  of  the 
neighboring  universities  proclaimed  its  vici 
nity  to  classic  Cambridge,  —  also  to  the 
eventful  scene  of  the  midnight  riot  and  homi 
cide. 

Bold,  but  quietly,  entering  the  cottage,  he 
passed  from  room  to  room,  apparently  in 
quest, of  some  one.  The  sound  of  voices,  in 
low  converse,  reached  his  ear  as  he  paused 
before  another  apartment. 

The  door  was  ajar,  and  pushing  it  open  ho 
entered. 


The  noise  of  his  footsteps  being  insufficient 
to  attract  attention  from  thos?  within  he  hem- 
med  once  or  twice  as  he  crossed  the  threshold 
to  arouse  them  from  their  abstraction  and 
give  warning  of  his  presence,  but  before  he 
was  discovered  by  either  of  the  two  persons 
whom  the  room  contained,  ho  unavoidably 
overheard  a  soft  voice  murmur, 

'  Henry,  dear  Henry,  is  this  true  ?  and  do 
you  indeed  intend  to  leave  us  for  a  long  voy 
age  and  a  far  foreign  shore?'— 0  no,  this 
cannot  be.' 

While  the  rich,  manlytones  of  a  frank,  full 
voice,  replied, — 

1  True,  Ellen,  true,  I  take  my  departure  in 
a  few  days  more  for  the  coast  of  California; 
I  have  come   to  prepare  you,  dearest,  to  bid ' 
you  a  long  farewell.' 

4  California  !'  echoed  his  companion's  girl 
ish  tones;  then  with  a  sweet,  a  melodious 
earnestness  they  eagerly  asked,  •  yet  uhy,  O 
why  !  Surely  'tis  not  wealth  that  you  would 
seek  in  that  distant  land  ?  then  why  leave 
your  home  and — and ' 

1  And  you!'  you  would  say,  dearest.  True, 
still  true,  yet  have  I  not  already  explained  to 
you  that  imperative  reasons  there  are  for  my 
strange  exile,  as  you  justly  term  it.  Nay  1— 
my  interest,  my  safety  demand  it— demand 
that  I  now  take  this  singular,  this  unaccount- 

able  stop '  for  the  heir  to  an  opulent  family. 

Cut  '.lie  actuating  motive,  though  secret,  is  all 
powerful ;  to  remain,  is  fraught  with  hazards 
you  would  never  suspect.;  in  night  lies  alono 
my  snfc-ty  from  that  which  threatens  me.1 

'Then,  in  Heaven's  name,  fly,  Henry, fly  I 
I  would  not  detain  you  for  worlds!'  iterated  a 
voice  .tremulous  with  alarm.  'Dear  dear 
Hurry  !  do  not  one  hour  more  delay  thus  to 
secure  your  safety.' 

1  Nay,  nay,  dear  girl,  the  danger  though 
imminent,  is  not  immediate,  and,  perchance, 
may  bo  only  imaginary.  Suffice  it,  that  it  ia 
Ihe  consequence  of  no  misconduct  of  my 
own.1 

I  Thank  Heaven  for  that,  at  least  l~nay,  I 


34 


KIT  CARSON. 


knew  it  before  I1  returned  the  tome  soft,  con 
fiding  accent*. 

Lincoln,  as  he  now  advanced  to  their  very 
side,  could  sro  that  R  sweet  face  wan  pillow 
ed  trustingly  upon  the  manly  shoulder  of  a 
noble  youth. 

Yet  as  undiscovered,  as  when,  withfttornor 
intent,  ho  stooped,  in  manly  during  over  the 
youthful  pair,  The  handsome  face  and  gal- 
lant  bearing  of  his  friend  Vcrnon.ho  hud  not 
needed  tho  first  glance  nor  the  first  word  to 
recognise;  the  place,  the  posture,  tho  pre 
sence  in  which  he  sat,  had  been  enough  for 
his  utipcrccived  observer,  us  was  the  gentle, 
trusting  attitude  in  which  that  bewitching 
countenance  rcposed'upon  his  breast,  with  his 
*urm  encircling,  tenderly,  a  delicate  and  grace- 
ful  form,  just  faintly  trembling  from  girlhood 
into  blushing  womanhood,  like  a  rose-bud  ex- 
paneling  into  the  Mi-blown  queen  of  flowers; 
while  those  soft  eyea  of  liquid  blue,  beaming 
with  love  and  confidence,  were  fixed  upon  his 
own  jetty  orbs,  whoso  every  gluncc  was  teem 
ing  with  admiration,  as  it  in  turn  wandered 
over  the  beautiful  Grecian  contour,  the  small 
•mile-Hi  lip, the  duzzlingly  fair  complexion, 
shadowed  by  auburn  tresses,  that,  in  their 
very  hue,  were  alike  expressive  of  girlish 
sweetness  and  surpassing  gentleness. 

And  even  us  the  keenly-observant  brother 
and  friend  drew  near,  he  saiv  tho  lips  of  tho 
\ovcrs  meet  in  a  wjxrm  and  glowing  kiss,  that 
spoke  worlds  to  their  hearts,  and  volumes  to 
hin  ear  I  •  , 

'  Lovo  I— yea,  love  beyond  redemption  !' 
half-uloud  soliloquised  the  amunod  Lincoln- 
bending  down,  all  unperceivcd,  until  his  very 
breath  was  warm  upon  her  check,  ho  planted 
another  on  the  lips  yet  fresh  with  a  lover's 
kiss. 

The  girl  started  from  her  confiding  atti 
tude,  crimson  with  modesty's  favorite  hue ; 
and,  quick  ns  tho  offending  act  itself,  Vernon 
sprung  to  his  feet,  to  punish  the  author  of  the 
supposed  audacity. 

A  merry  laugh  met  him  in  turn. 


•  Ila  I  ha  I  my  gallant  Harry,  you're  some- 
what  sel'hh,  I  see,     What !  so  chary  of  a 
sweetheart's  kisses  t    Nay,  nay,  my  jea'ous 
friend,  'tin  but  A  fraternal  salute  another  1ms 
ventured  upon  I     Hoy,  sweet  Noll  1  how  is  it, 
girl  ?' 

The  young  lovers  stood  abashed  before 
him,  looking  the  very  pictures  of  confusion. 
Hurry,  who  felt  like  a  thitif  caught  in  tho  act, 
for  tho  moment  wished  hid  friend  in  paradise, 
rather  than  there. 

The  considerate  Lincoln,  after  briefly  en- 
joying  their  cmbarrassmoi.t,  generously  threw 
a  cover  over  it,  by  saying,  with  surprised  em 
phasis, —  ' 

*  Harry !  have  I   heard   aright  ?     In  it  in 
deed  your  intention  to  sail  for  the  Gold  Re 
gions  ?' 

'  It  is  !'  was  the  brief  response. 

4  I  In  I  this  IH  strangu !  whence  comes  this 
sudden ' 

The  hand  of  the  student  was  placed  upon 
his  arm.  The  grasp  tightened  on  the  limb, 
as  Vernon,  in  a  low,  firm  tone,  said, — ' 

'  Even  to  you,  my  best  friend,  I  must  re 
fuse  an  answer.  Even  to  tho  girl  whom  \ 
so  tenderly  love,  even  to  tho  mother  who  bore 
me,  1  have  resolutely  declined  tho  explana 
tion  that  you  now  seek.  One  vogue,  faint 
hint  I  may  give  you  of  the  truth — «ho  hidden 
cause  is  none  other  than  the  offspring  of  that 
eventful  night,  when  you  saved  me  from  a 
rioter's  blind  fury  on  tho  grounds  of  tho  Uni 
versity. 

Despite  tho  rebellious  cravings  of  curiosity 
and  astonishment,  there  was  a  meaning  firm 
ness,  a  deliberate  collectedncss  in  tho  unlook- 
for  words  of  his  friend,  that  rnado  Lincoln 
instinctively  forbear  from  the  importunity 
which  sprang  from  surprise. 

He  remained  himself  in  deep  and  abstract- 
cd  thought  for, a  few  moments  only,  atten 
tively  regarded,  meanwhile,  by  the  lovers ;  at 
their  termination  ho  looked  up,  in  a  deliber 
ate  tone  Buying  —  though  his  words  were 


KIT  CARSON. 


very   fur   from   being  received   in  the  same 
calm  spirit, — 

4  Vcrnon — Ellen — I,  also,  am  on  the  eve  of 
embarking  for  the  golden  haven  of  San  Fran 
cisco.' 

'    '  Lincoln  !' 
4  Brother !' 

And  a  wild  start  nrnl  a  faint  cry  accompa- 
nied  the  Inst  exclamation. 

*  Yes,  it  is  already  determined  upon  I 
shall  seek,  on  the  shores  of  »he  far  Pacific, 
sister,  to  better  our  ruined  fortunes.  I  shall 
seek  ' 

1  No,  no;  you  do  not  mean  it,  brother ! — 
you  will  not  desert  your  poor  Ellen,  Eugene,1 
cried  the  young  girl,  with  a  frightened  look, 
as  she  daried  to  his  side.' 

4  Yes,  Ellen,  yes,'  answered  tho  brother, 
much  moved. 

4  Ah!  brother,  brother!  but  no,' she  ner 
vously  added,  with  a  glad  air,  '  the  means — 
you  have  not  the  means  !  It  costs  much  to 
go,  all  say  so.' 

4  The  means  I  have,  Ellen,'  he  answered, 
4  thanks  to  a  Providence  as  fortunate  as  it  is 
strange.  Pecuniary  disability  is  no  longer  a 
barrier.' 

4  E  (gene  !  Eugene  !'  mournfully  uttered 
the  sorrowing  girl. 

He  took  her  hand  and  pressed  her  lip  in 
deep  emotion. 

'  Nay,  sister,  fear  not,  fear  not  that  you  will 
suffer  in  my  absence.  Five  hundred  of  tho 

thousand ' 

*  The  thousand,  brother?' 
'  Ay,  sister,  half  of  the  thousand  of  which 
I  am  tho  fortunate  possessor,  I  s*hall  place  at 
tho  disposal  of  the  good  lady  to  whoso  carol 
havo  BO  long  and  so  safely  confided  you,  for 
your  exclusive  benefit  during  my  proposed 
absence.  The  provision  will  bo  ample ;  the 
residue  I  shall  appropriate  to  tho  payment  of 
my  passage  and  purchase  of  an  outfit.' 

4O,  Eugene,  Eugene,  you  have  often 
spoken  to  me  of  this  California.  Yet,  alas ! 
alas !  "I  never  once  dreamed  that  you  were 
serious.' 


•  I  knew  not  that  it  would  ever  bo  within 
my  power.     It  is,  however  !  and  shall  I  now 
neglect  the  prize,  once  in  view  of  the  goal  T 
But  why  look  with  such  grief  upon  tho  "mere 
idea?     Have  I  not  told  you  th-t  you   would 
be  amply  cared  for  by  a  brother's   fond  fore 
thought?  have  I  not  told  you  that  you  should 
bo  no  sufferer  by  my  absence  ?' 

•  No  sufferer !     In  body,  perhaps  not  <  but 
in  mind,  Eugene  !     O  God  !  the  torture  that 
I  should  endure— ihe   torture  of  suspense— 
and  ever  anxious  for  you,  my  faithful  brother 
and — and  for ' 

The  word,  the  name,  xvas  unspoken,  but 
the  look,  the  look  of  devoted  love,  supplied  to 
\ernon's  beating  heart  more  of  meanin"  than 
the  utterance. 

4  Nay,  dearest  sister,  the  hazard,  tho  dan- 
por,  is  only  imaginary.  The  chief  obstacle 
is  tlio  distance.' 

1  Thu  distance  !  tho  distance  I  I  foe!  it  will 
forever  part  us.  But  stay  !— and  joy's  sud- 
den  thought  sparkled  in  her  blue  eye—4  bless- 
ed  be  the  thought !— you  both  are  going,  and 
can  I  not  accompany  you  ?' 

•  You  accompany  us  1'  was  the  hasty  ejacu- 
lation  of  the  shocked  brother  ; 4  you  share  the 
hardships,  tho  dangers  of  this  adventurous  un- 
dertakiug  ?     Preposterous!' 

'  I  thought,'  remonstrated  the  weeping  girl, 
'  I  thought  you  said  but  now  there  were  no 
perils,  no  privations !  Ah,  my  brother,  my 
noblo  brother,  you  would  have  deceived  me 
there— you  have  betrayed  your  own  generous 
self.  There  are  trials,  there  are  hazards  to 
be  endured— let  mo  then  share  them  with  you 
— with  Henry?' 

'Never!'  exclaimed  Lincoln,  with  sudden 
sternness;  •  never,  HO  help  mo  IJcuvcn,  shall 
tho  sister  whom  I  have  guarded  so  long,  bo 
thus,  with  my  consent,  exposed.  Perish,  for 
ever,  tho  very  idea  in  your  mind.  I  go,  but  1 
go  nlonc !'  , 

4  Not  alone,  Lincoln,  not  alone,'  interposed 
tho  hardly  less  agitated  Vernon.  4  If  you  have 
the  same  destination,  we  at  least  will  bo  com- 
panions.' 


KIT  CARSON. 


committed,  instead  immediately  asked  in  tho 
cracked  and  muttering  voice  of  age— for  he 
was  an  old  man— 

( You  have  just  signed  the  name  of  Henry 
Vernon  ;  is  it  your  own?' 

'It  is  not;  'tis  tlms  of  an  absent  friend,1 
replied  Lincoln,  frank'y,  thrown  off  his  guard 
by  the  coolness  of  the  query. 

*  Humph  !  what  right  have  you  to  sign  it, 
then?1  wua  tho  bluff  rejoinder. 

1  Tho  best o.f  rights,  sir,'  answered  Lincoln, 
nettled  by  the  blunt  tone  of  tho  other;  '  the 
right  of  a  sworn  companion  to  act  in  some 
cases  for  a  friend  ' 

4  Humph  1*  once  more  ejaculated  the  gruff 
old  man  ,  '  sworn  friend  and  companion — 
humph !' 

4  Tho  insolent  old  grayboard  !'  muttered 
Lincoln,  us  his  unceremonious  acquaintance 
hobbled  off  again,  and  he  lost  sight  of  him, 
thinking  no  more  of  the  matter. 

Perhtips,  could  he  have  looked  forward  not 
many  hours  into  futurity,  ho  would  not  have 
passed  tho  matter  HO  lightly. 

That  old  man  was  John.  Vernon,  the  miser ! 
Eugene  Lincoln  knew  him  not — yutnot  with 
out  a  purpose  was  tho  miser  there. 

That  day  had  passed,  another  succeeded 
it,  and  the  third,  the  eventful  third  day,  fol 
lowing  rapidly  upon  the  heels  of  its  prede 
cessors,  duwned  bright  and  beautiful. 

Their  luggage  had  been  conveyed  on  board 
tho  evening  previous  ;  and  at  an  early  hour 
the  two  companions  in  fortune  repaired  to  the 
wharf,  already  thronged  by  the  crowd  of  peo 
ple  whom  the  departure  of  a  vessel  on  such 
an  expedition,  has  invariably  called  forth. 

Tho  ship  was  to  '  clear*  and  sail  upon  one 
and  the  name  day  ;  and  as  they  procccodcd  at 
length  on  board,  both  impatiently  awaited  tho 
appointed  hour,  which  was  to  embark  them 
upon  their  novel  and  adventurous  enter* 
prise. 

Hundreds  were  assembled  upon  the  wharl 
to  witness  the  approaching  etent,  and  count 
less  were  tho  spectators  on  shore,  as  count 


less  seemed  the  decks  of  the  outward-bound 
vessel. 

And  from  among  the  thousand  lookers  on, 
low  many  longing  eyes  were  fixed  with  so* 
crct  envy  upon  that  crowdee  deck  !  Let 
more  tluiu  one  reader  of  these  pages  answer 
for  himself.  * 

Side  by  side,  in  a  conspicuous  position  by 
the  vessel's  taflrail,  the  twain  iti  whom  we  are 
most  interested  stood.  Their  eyes  turned  to- 
ward  the  thronging  shores,  and  their  lips  oc 
casionally  moving,  and  then  only  when  im 
portant  considerations  appeared  to  demand, 
so  engrossing  and  novel  WHS  tho  scene  before 
them, 

*  Ten  minutes,  only,  to  tho  moment,'  in  a 
breathless  whisper  announced  Vernon  to  his 
comrade,  as  he  consulted  an  elegant  gold  re 
peater.  *  The  captain  assures  us,  you  nay, 
that  he  shall  sail  precisely  at  tho  hour  adver 
tised.' 

4  Yes,  there  is  to  bo  no  delay  beyond  it,  in 
any  case  whatever.  Hut  are  you  quito  sure, 
Vernon,'  added  Lincoln,  4  that  nothing  has 
been  forgotten  ?' 

1  Quito  certain  ;  I  havo  taken  caro  not  to 
omit  anything  ;  all  in  in  perfect  train.  1  shall 
not  want  for  money  ;  I  go,  provided  with  an 
abundant  supply  for  all  contingencies,  and  a 
carte  blanche  us  regards  my  good  father's 
banker,'  replied  Henry,  adding  laughingly, 
4  not  that  I  mean  to  avail  myself  of  the  per 
mission,  by  any  means,  as  I  go  out,  resolved 
not  to  bo  idle,  and  unwilling  that  my  exile 
should  bo  altogether  unprofitable.  And  you, 
my  friend ' 

He  hesitating^  stopped  and  looked  inquir 
ingly. 

4 1  understand  you,'  answered  his  compa 
nion,  quickly.  4  Have  no  concern  on  thut 
score  ;  I  havo  not,  I  trust,  misappropriated 
tho  blessed  boon  Providence  so  unexpectedly 
bestowed  on  mo.  To  my  sister's  acco'unt,  In 
her  behalf,  remain  behind  five  hundred  of  the 
precious  thousand,  my  possession  ot  which 
has  already  been  explained  to  you;  with 


KIT  CARSON. 


Ellen  herself  I  have  left  three  hundred  of  that 
amount ;  the  remaining  two  have  been  placed 
at  the  disposal  of  the  good  dame  who  hus  been 
ns  a  second  mother  to  the  friendless  orphan. 
Pojr  girl !  how  apprehensive  she  was  that  her 
brother  was  robbing  himself  for  her  comfort, 
though  again  and  again  assured  that  the  pro 
vision  for  myself  was  ample  ;  and  how  she 
pleaded  and  prayed  to  the  lust  to  be  allowed 
to  accompany  us.' 

*  Dear  girl,  she  is  indeed  a  viob!e  creature, 
though    a  gentle  one — with,   as  I  sometimes 
think,  more  of  spirit  and  character  about  her 
than  even  a  brother's  intimacy  has  yet    been 
enabled  to  elicit,  as   only  circumstances  are 
like  to  do.     Would   we  could  have    had  her 
de?r  companionship,  yet  to  have  granted  her 
prayer  would  have  been  madness  in  us.     At 
least,  however,  you  leave  her   in  safe  hands, 
Eugsnel* 

•  She  could  not  be  in  safer,    Harry  ;  she  is 
as  well  protected  as  if  I   still  were  with  her. 
Bani>h  every  doubt  of  this  ;  1  should  not  have 
left  her  otherwise.     Yet  'twas  a  painful  task 
to  tear  myself — ' 

'  Frcm  trat  sweet  girl ! — I  doubt  it  not,'  in 
terposed  his  friend  ;  '  and  ah,  if  possible,  how 
doubly  painful  to  me  the  parting.  With  you, 
she  was  the  only  tie  ;  but  think  how  sad  must 
have  been  the  separation  with  my  own  aged 
parents.  'Tis  well  that  neither  could  summon 
nerve  to  accompany  me  hither;  it  would  but 

have  prolonged  useless  regrets.  And  yet 

but  ha  !  there  goes  the  signal !' 

'  The  signal !  the  signal  !  Bravo !'  shouted 
fifty  eager  voices  around,  as  at  that  moment 
three  small  flag*  weni  quivering  up  to  the 
gaff. 

1  See  !'  cried  the  enthusiastic  Lincoln,'  see 
there  goes  a  fourth  one  at  half-mast.  When 
that  last  ensign  soars  to  the  peak,  then  we're 
at  sea — at  sea,  with  a  gallant  ehip,  a  stout 
crew,  and  ns  fine  a  captain  as  ever  sailed  salt- 
water :  and  I  may  safely  say,  as  desirable  a 
set  of  passengers.' 

And  ho  pointed  from  the  portly,  fine-look 


ing  figure  of  the  skipper  on  the  quarter  deck 
— one  of  the  noblest-hearted  veterans  of  his 
profession,  the  most  generous  of  sailors,  to 
the  motley  assemblage  of  fellow-passengers; 
motley  indeed,  for  it  comprised  almost  every 
stage  of  life,  from  the  careworn  man  of  mid- 
die  age  to  the  fresh  and  vigorous  young  man 
of  twenty  ;  from  the  gray-haired  veteran  even 
downward  to  the  boy  ot  sixteen— for  among 
that  mixed  company,  even  such  tender  years 
were  found. 

It  was  a  single  instance,  only,  however,  in 
the  person  ol  a  young  stripling,  and  this  fact 
united  with  the  boy's  handsome  face  and 
graceful  carriage,  so  natural  to  youth,  made 
him  an  object  of  interest  to  our  two  friends  ; 
the  more  as  they  noticed  he  seemed  verj 
delicate  in  appearance,  and  more  than  once 
did  they  wonder  what  wild  freak  could  hare 
brought  thither  one  so  little  calculated  to  bat 
tle  with  the  hardships  which  BO  many  stout 
men  and  rugged  constitutions  were  going  to 
endure. 

The  lad  himself,  by  the  ready  instinct  of 
sympathy,  seemed  to  perceive  that  they,  at 
least,  felt  interested  for  his  apparently  solitary 
and  friendless  situation,  for  he. kept  near  to 
ihem  from  the  first. 

And  the  frank-hearted  Vernon  was  just 
thinking  of  opening  a  conversation  with  the 
stripling,  when  in  the  very  act  of  accosting 
him,  there  was  a  general  cry  of  *  the  signal, 
the  signal  for  sailing  !*  and  at  the  same  mo 
ment  the  flag  at  half-mast  was  seen  trem 
bling  upward  toward  the  gaff,  mingling  with 
the  trio  that  preceded  it,  until  from  the  peak, 
four  floating  streamers  were  waving  out  a 
last  farewell  to  Old  Boston,  its  harbor  and 
its  town. 

The  moment  of  breathless,  thrilling  excite 
ment  had  come — all  was  now  the  confusion 
and  precipitation  of  getting  under  weigh. — 
The  bustle  of  hurried  preparation,  the  seamen 
hastening  to  and  fro,  the  quick,  stern  orders 
of  the  officers,  the  cheerful  '  heave-o-heave  I* 
the  loud,  impatient  '  all  aboard  I  all  aboard  ! 


KIT  CARSON, 


and  sonorous  '  coil  away,'  '  ease  off  cable  !' 
the  cheera  of  the  upectaton,  and  their  excite 
ment  now  at  it*  height  5  ill  made  up  a  stir 
ring  scene,  as  slowly  the  laborious  work  cf 
getting  a  first-clnM.i  ship  under  weigh,  went 
on,  surely  and  steadily. 

1  We  are  off—  off  at  last !  hurrah !'  echoed 
almost  every  voice  on  board  the  monster- 
craft,  a  little  prematurely  however,  in  the 
universal  ecstacy  of  anticipation.  *  Ho1  for 
California  1' 

The  crowd  on  the  shore  took  up  the  shout, 
the  very  waves  echoed  it  back. 

Hut,  just  us  tho  cubic  WUB  about  to  bo  slip- 
pod  finally,  the  plunk  about  to  be  hauled  in, 
the  warning  order,  '  nil  aboard  !'  for  the  last 
time  repeated,  a  loud,  deep  voice,  in  the  very 
midst  of  tlu  hu/y.aing  mob  was  audible,  when 
the  shout  ceased,  exclaiming,— 

1  Hold,  captain,  hold  !  In  the  name  of  the 
law.' 

And  struggling  through  thai  thick-packed 
throng,  to  the  front  itself  forcing  his  way, 
agitating  tlmt'sca  of  human  beirign,  us  if  it  hud 
been  indeed  the  troubled  deep  laboring  with 
some  restless  bviuth.in,  purling  right  and  left 
tho  jostled  cr.owd,  appeared  a  captain  of  po 
lice,  with  a  posso  of  three  ">en  at  his  buck  ! 
'In  the  name  of  tho  law!'  loudly  repeated 
the  officer,  as  he  leaped,  jnst  in  time,  along 
the  plank,  his  three  followers  at  his  heels, 
and  bounded  to  the  deck  elbowing  his  un 
ceremonious  path  through  the  fresh  crowd  he 
encountered  in  the  ship. 

'  An  arrest !  an  arrest  by  the  police  !'  a  hun 
dred  breathless  voices  iterated  ;  while  at  this 
instant  the  poitly  skipper  advanced  hastily  to 
meet  him,  demanding  quickly  of  tho  foremost 
ii.trudcr, — 

4  (la  !  policeman,  what  is  all  this  ?  what  ia 
all  this  ?  An  arrest  on  board  my  blip  ?  The 
offence,  sir — u  hut  is  the  offence  7  •  Is  it  a 
criminal.  am%st  ? — which  one  of  my  passen. 

Tho  impatient  officer  interrupted  him  with 
still  more  hurried, — 


1  No,  captain,  no ;  it  is  a  civil  action— 
but ' 

4  A  civil  action—then  it  is  no  crime  ?  Well 
of  what  class,  sir,  of  what  class  V  demanded 
the  captain,  in  a  (one  the  policeman  did  not 
half  like, 

'  Debt,  sir — an  action  for  debt— ha !  I  see 
our  man !' 

*  Debt,  debt  F  reiterated  the  bluff  skipper, 
'  debt,  hey  ?  Hnrk'yo,  Mr.  Policeman,'  nnd 
tho  corpulent  captain  planted  his  stout  body 
directly  in  'he  other's  way;  '  back,  sir,  out 
of  this  ship  instantly  I1 

1  Captain,  let  me  pass  !'  hurriedly  entreated 
the  officer. 

'  VVhut !  arrest  a  poor  devil  of  a  debtor  at 
the  very  moment  of  his  setting  sail  for  the 
only  crui/ing  ground  where  ho  ever  has  the 
hopo  of  being  ono  day  able  to  pny  off  his 
honest  drills  ?  (Jive  up  a  poor  fellow  to  n  set 
of  rascally  creditors,  who  won't  even  give  him 
a  chance  for  his  lifr  ?  Nol  not  while  thoroY 
a  shot  in  tho  looker,  d — n  me!' 

•At  your  peril  prevent  mo/  hoarsely  the 
police  officer  cried,  calling  to  his  followers; 
'on,  men,  on!— (,uick,  do  your  duty— there 
stands  tho  prisoner!' 

'  At  your  peril  you  touch  a  passenger  of 
mine  !'  roared  the  honest  old  seaman,  while 
to  the  s'lilois  at  the  gangway,  he  shouted  — 
1  Cast  off,  my  lads,  custofl  !  The  lund  sharks 
shall  go  to  sou  with  us!  I'll  teach  them  to 
put  a  poor  fellow  in  limbo  for  debt,  on  a  deck 
of  mine.' 

4  Seize  your  prisonrr,  seize  him  !'  shouted 
fhe  determined  policeman,  in  a  voice  husky 
with  passion.  *  Captain,  do  you  dare  oppose 
nn  officer  of  justice  in  tho  execution  of  tho 
laws?  Bo  warn,  sir) — bewaro  !  it  is  a  penal 
oflbncc.* 

1  To  tho  devil  with  you  and  your  penal 
offences,  you  fchurk  !'  cried  the  noble  sea-dog, 
with  more  energy  than  refinement.  •  Mark 
me!  I  am  master  of  my  own  ship,  sir,  but  I 
need  no  land-lubber  to  tell  mo  that  by  em- 
ploying  force  to  protect  a  passenger  ag  ins 


KIT  CARSON. 


.41 


gentlemen  of  your  kidney,  I  should  be  jeopar 
dizing  the  interests  of  my  owners  and  all  who 
sail  with  me,  as  well  as  rendering  this  vessel 
liable  to  be  detained;  therefore,  I  cannot  in- 
terfere  personally,  any  further,  in  this  matter 
—but  to  you,  gentlemen,'  turning  a  signifi- 
cant  look  on  the  listening  crowd  of  passen 
gers,  '  if  you  choose  to  defend  one  of  your 
number — what  one  I  know  not— from  the 
clutches  of  a  griping  creditor,  it  may  not  be 
out  of  your  power  so  to  do.' 

The  sympathising  passengers  at  once  took 
the  meaning  hint,  but  as  ignorant  as  the  skip 
per,  which  among  their  companions  the  dan 
ger  n.enaced,  they  hurriedly  closed  up  their 
ranks,  so  as  to  present  an  almost  impenetra 
ble  phalnnx  to  the  three 'policemen,  who,  led 
on  by  their  chief,  were  endeavoring  to  per- 
for.n  their  duty. 

'Your  weapons,  men  your  weapons,'  com 
manded  the  now  exasperated  officer.  '  They 
resist,  aha  !  they  resist  the  law  !  Let  us  see 
if  they  will  venture  to  protect  a  fugitive  from 
justice?' 

*  Say,  rather,  a  poor  debtor,' contemptuous 
ly  relortcd  the  good  caplains's  honest  tones — 
the  indignant  veteran  scarce  able  to  restrain 
himself.  1A  poor  debtor  hunted  down  like 
a  dog  ?' 

The  shout  of  applause  that  greeted  the  gen 
erous  speech  from  the  sympathizing  hundreds 
around,  was  coupled  with  a  single  order  by 
a  furious  voice, — 

'Slung-shots,  my  men!  Ready! — slung 
shots!' 

And  that  formidable  instrument  of  aggres 
sion  and  defence,  so  notoriously  associated 
with  the  Boston  police  of  the  present  day, 
was  seen  aloft,  whirled  by  the  brandished 
arms  of  each  of  the  trio— while  the  fierce 
tones  of  the  enfuriatcd  leader  rang  on  every 
ear, — 

'  Fight  your  way  to  the  prisoner !  down 
with  them— down  with  them  !' 

Then  it  was  that  the  dismayed  passengers, 
appalled  by  the  ught  of  that  tremendous  wea 


pon,  and  awed  by  the  mysterious  majesty  of 
the  law,  which  so  few  men  like  openly  to  re 
sist,  divided  right  and  left  before  the  whiz- 
zing  lanyards'  terrible  weight,  and  fell  back, 
each  upon  IMS  fellow— so  impotent  is  ever  an 
incongruous  mob  against  the  efforts  of  a  dis 
ciplined  police. 

1  Now  seize  your  man  !  this  is  heT  cried 
the  chief  policeman,  energetically,  while  his 
pointed  finger  served  as  an  index  to  his  men. 
4  Eugene  Lincoln,  you  arc  arrested  for  debt, 
at  the  suit  of  John  Vtrnon  !' 

And,  in  the  self  same  moment,  amazed,  con 
founded,  helpless,  from  the  stupefaction  of 
surprise,  the  utterly  overwhelmed  merchant's 
clerk  was  dragged  from  the  deck— dragged 
from  the  side  of  his  no  less  astounded  friend, 
— dragged  on  along  the  gangway,  and  over 
the  vessel's  side  just  as  the  wondering  sailor* 
themselves  had  slipped  the  cable,  while  the 
next  instant  the  hapless  Lincoln  found  him 
self  forced  on  the  crowded  wharf  once  more, 
as  off  from  the  countless  throng  on  the  shore, 
slowly,  majestically  the  good  ship  swung  that 
was  to  have  borne  to  fortune  and  io  happi 
ness,  the  ill-fated  young  man,  yet  left  him 
now  to  utter  misery,  and  to  the  stern  police, 
a  prisoner. 

And  still,  ns  the  gallant  craft  fell  "proudly 
ofT,  crowded  with  human  life  and  human 
energy,  upon  a  mission  cf  such  daring  enter 
prise  and  bold  adventure  bound,  even  sympa 
thy  forgot,  in  wrapt  enthusiasm,  the  startling 
occurrence  which  had  momentarily  aroused 
it ;  and  deep,  long,  and  loud  were  the  deaf- 
ening  repetitions  of — 

'  California !  California  forever  1 — hurrah  1 
hurrah !' 

But  when  those  thunder-plaudits  knew  their 
first  instant's  intermission,  suddenly,  on  that 
crowded  deck  a  form  was  seen  to  rush  for 
ward,  as  if  bursting  from  a  spell,  and  in  ac 
cents  of  thrilling  anguish,  a  female  voice  wa« 
heard,  clearly,  distinctly,  by  each  one  of 
the  assembled  multitude,  to  shriek  forth, 
piercingly,— 


KIT  CARSON.  . 


*  My  brother!  wy  brother!  Eugene!  O 
God  !  Kugtnr.  \  the  ihip  is  at  sen— ut  urn  ! 
it  is  bearing  me  away  from  you.  O  Heaven  ! 
^ve  are  separated— separated  forever.  What 
will  thoflo  fearful  men  do  with  you,  my  poor, 
poor  brother  ?  My  God !— my  God  !' 

The  voice,  in  a  shriek  yet  more  forcing, 
lost  itself,  OH  the  figure  WHH  Heen  to  full  prim* 
trutc  upon  tho  vessel's  deck,  while,  on  the  in 
stant,  an  answering  cry  wns  heard  faintly  from 
the  shore  ! 


CUmS'A  ¥. 

The  Ditrovery—Thf.   Vui/nffc  nf  the  Gold 
Scrkcr»—A  Startling  Rtcognltion, 

1  Men  are  tho  spnrt  of  circumstances,  when 
The  circumstances  seem  the  sport  of  men,' 

BYROK, 

t\  i     ^_  ////  N   actual    reality  was 

r™\'J/wM^»  eM"s  «ct-'»o  °f 

Y  the  last  chapter,  nnd 
who  imagines  it  to 
;>  bo  other,  grossly  do- 
^ceive.s  himself;  for  by 
j  writer,  and  a  hun 
dred  readers  beside,  was  it  witnessed.  The 
pursuit  of  the  police,  the  attempted  apprehen 
sion,  the  arrest,  are  iucts,  each  and  all ;  the 
incidents  wo  have  thus  far  described  are  ac 
tual  occurrences,  as,  also,  are  those  that  are 
to  follow. 

Dilh'cult,  indeed,  would  it  be  to  describe, 
however  easy  to  conceive,  the  mingled  feel 
ings  of  Henry  Vernon,  at  the  suddun  and  un- 
forsoon  catastrophe  that  now  so  strangely,  so 
unexpectedly  separated  him  from  that  bottom 
friend  and  intended  companion  of  bin  adven 
tures,  his  dangers  and  his  fortunes. 

The  first  momentary  elFoct  hud  been  stupo- 
fied  bewilderment ;  the  first  active  impulse 
had  been  to  spring  recklessly  forward  to  his 
aid— and  ho  hud  uono  so,  but  it  was  too  late, 
it  was  in  vain— tho  myrmidons  of  tho  law  hud 


already  succeeded  in  hurrying  their  petrified 
pi  Honor  from  the  protection  of  tho  passengers 
and  from  the  ship,  and  the  vessel  itself  had 
glided  silently  away  from  the  wharf,  and  was 
now  at  seo.  . 

I  I'm  grief,  his  bitter  woe,  hi*  vain  n-gTCln, 
would  perhaps  have  overpowered,  have  un- 
irunnud  him  <}iiilo.  Hut  aurprino  \V«H  pnru- 
iit.>ui.it  to  all  ;  suiprise  ui  the  Mrimgo  denoue 
ment  which  had  followed  his  friend's  arrest. 
Tlit)  wailing  tones  cf  the  unknown  female 
yet  echoed  on  fancy's  car,  and  the  agonized 
adjuration, — rny  brother!  my  brother!'  still 
haunted  him. 

lie  recognised  that  voice,  tl,o»o  accent*, 
attuned  to  agony'*  own  intonation*  though 
they  were  ! 

'  Merciful  Heaven !  this  suspicion !'  he 
ejiculuteil,  'can  thnre  bo  truth  in  it?  Any* 
where  my  heart  would  recognise  thece  loved 
tones — yes,  anywhere,  save  here  !  It  must 
have  been — 1  could  not  so  deceive  mynelf— 
ami  yet,  I  veo  no  female  drcm,  no  female 
form  among  them  all.  Surely  that  WUH  a  wo- 
man'*  voice !' 

It  was  but  u  thought  and  a  bound,  nnd  ho 
elbowed  his  way  through  the  throng  of  pas 
sengers  to  that  part  of  the  crowded  ship  from 
whence  iho  strange  voice  had  emanated,  and 
where  now  a  group  were  seen  bending  over 
some  object  of  common  observation  or  curi 
osity. 

There,  prostrate  on  tho  hard,  cold  planks, 
his  face  pressed  against  an  oaken  pillow,  life* 
less  and  unconscious  lay  the  youth  of  sixteen 
— the  young  boy  who  had  BO  interested  his 
sympathy. 

'  Stand  aside !  stand  aside  !  leave  jiim  to 
my  care,'  cried  Vornon,  in  a  voice  of  thun 
der,  UH  ho  rainud  the  inanimuto  form  and  ten- 
derly  pressed  iho  clay-cold  lips;  for  in  that 
slight  frame,  and  beneath  that  boyiah  attire,, 
ho  recognised,  also,  the  gentle  Ellen,  the  bis- 
tor  of  his  poor  friend  ! 

4  Tis  she — 'tis  she  !'  he  murmured.  *  But 
how  this  happen*,  I  kpow  not !  Hut  ha  !'  he 


KIT  CARSON. 


muttered,  as  he  saw  wondering  eyes  fixed  en 
him,  as  once  more  his  lips  sought  those  of  the 
seeming  lad  .  'I  must  use  caution  ;  her  sex 
must  not  be  discovered— of  that  I  must  be 
ware.' 

As  active  in  mind  as  in  body,  Henry  Ver- 
non  was  not  long  in  deciding  on  the  best 
courso  to  be  pursued.  To  his  own  and  Lin 
coln's  exclusive  use,  as  was  the  case  with  the 
other  passengers,  a  state-room  had  been  ap- 
preprinted ;  and  to  this  he  quickly  bore  his 
charge. 

Long,  long  he  sat,  half  recumbent  upon  a 
sofa,  which  formed  part  cf  its  furniture  ;  her 
dear  head  pillowed  on  his  shoulder,  her  un 
conscious  form  sustaine  1  by  his  arm.  Long 
and  anxiously  watched  he  her  lifeless  coun 
tenance,  for  the  first  sign  of  reviving  sensi 
bility. 

So  wrapt  up  in  his  vigil,  so  absorbed  was 
he,  that  of  the  rapid  flight  of  time  took  he  no 
heed,  nor  heard  the  shrill  whistle  of  the  wind 
amid  the  vessel's  cordage,  overhead,  nor 
marked  the  heavy  tossing  of  the  ship  on  the 
rocking  swell  of  the  billows  underneath,  as 
each  and  ah  betrayed  at  once  the  fact  that  for 
the  broad  and  boundless  ocean  had  been  ex 
changed  the  quiet  harbor  of  Old  Tri-Mount. 
But,  at  length,  the  glow  of  youth  and  health 
came  softly  stealing  back,  like  some  fair 
while  rose-bud  faintly  blushing  in  the  morn's 
first  ruddy  hues,  and  then  the  sweet  blue  eyes 
looked  out  on  him,  dimly,  coldly,  vacantly,  at 
first,  but  gradually  gathering  light  and  lustre, 
like  the  brightening  stars,  until,  from  the  lifted 
lashes,  until  from  the  parched  lips,  came  in 
both  mute  and  spoken  language,  the  heart's 
tell-tale  echo, —  ' 

4  Eugene — Harry.' 

'  The  last  shadow  of  doubt  vanishes ! 
Ellen,  dearest  Ellen,'  the  youth  replied  with 
a  fond  caress,  '  it  is,  indeed,  your  precious 
Be  If.' 

But  wildly  the  disguised  girl  arose,  erect, 
as  wildly  passed  her  hand  across  her  sunny 
brow,  and  as  wildl)  aaked, — 


'  In  Heaven's  name,  where  am  I  ?  Why 
do  I  find  myself  in  this  strange  place,  and  from 
whence  comes  this  strange  rocking  beneath 
my  feet  ?  What  terrible  blank  is  this  will. in 
my  mind  ?' 

In  confused  and  indistinct  remembrance, 
with  a  painful  effort  to  collect  the  broken 
train  of  recollection,  fora  moment  she  kept 
silent. 

'Ah!  I  remember!  I  remember! — tho 
crowd, — the  ship, — the  wharf, — my  brother! 
Ah,  yes !  I  do  rtrr.omber  now  ,  but  Eugene— 
where  is  Eugene  r* 

'  In  the  hands  of  tl  e  police,  Ellen,  the  last 
time  I  saw  him — perhaps  in  prison,  now,1 
sorrowfully  uttered  Vernon,  trying  to  soothe 
her. 

'  In  prison  !  the  police  !  O,  great  Heaven, 
then  it  was  no  dream  !  Eugene,  my  lost 
Eugene  !  you  who,  from  infancy,  have  watch 
ed  over  me,  with  more  than  a  brother's  ten 
derness,  with  more  than  a  father's  care,  am  I 
now  deserting  you,  abandoning  you  to  a  pri 
son,  a  felon's  fiite,  and,  O  worse  than  all  ! 
to  the  torUring  knowledge  that  a  lost  sister 
is  the  tenant  of  a  strange  ship,  a  helpless,  un 
protected  girl,  at  the  mercy  of  every  one. 
Fatal,  fatal  b!o\r  !  and  thrice  fatal  the  hour 
that  tempted  me  to  this!  My  brother,  Oh  ! 
my  brother!  we  shall  never  meet  again.  But 
no ' 

And,  with  a  thrilling  thought  the  frantic 
girl  grasped  her  lover's  arm, — 

'  Henry,  as  you  love  me,' she  fairly  shriek 
ed,  '  I  charge  you,  by  your  hopes  of  Heaven, 
by  your  friendship  for  Eugene,  I  charge  you 
leave  me,  this  instant,  fly,  fly  to  the  good 
captain,  who  would  have  stayed  those  vile 
wretches'  hands,  and  in  the  name  of  human 
ity,  beseech  him  to  put  back  to  port,  to  re 
turn  me  to  my  brother,  rny  Buffering,  captive 
brother,  parted  from  me  thus  fearfully.  Go, 
Henry,  go.' 

1 1  will,  I  will.  If  words  can  move  him,  he 
shall  consent,  and  you  yet  be  restored  to 
Eugene's  arms.* 


KIT  CARSON. 


•  And  Vernon,  thus  speaking,  hurried  from 
the  otate  room. 

It  was  long  ere  he  returned  from  his  love* 
delegated  errand.  To  poor  Ellon,  it  ecemua 
like  eternity  the  time  he  was  gone  ;  and  then, 
he  scarcely  needed  to  tell  her  that  which, 
from  his  gloomy  countenance,  she  fearfully 
urgucd,  an  luirriedly  she  demanded  upon  hid 
reappearance, — 

1  You  have  failed,  Henry  ;  I  see  it  in  your 
face.* 

4  Too  true,  too  true/  murmured  the  lover ; 
the  ship  is  no  longer  in  Boston  Harbor — v*e 
are  upon  the  broad  Atlantic,  ten  miles  f  om 
port,  with  a  favoring  gale,  fust  sweeping  out 
to  sea.  The  captain,  believe  me,  feels  for 
you,  for  1  have  partly  told  your  story,  but  he 
declares  that  to  return  i«  impossible.  Futc  is 
against  — — ' 

4  Lost,  lost,  Lrit ! — the  last  hopo  1ms  per* 
ished  !'  gasped  the  moaning  girl,  as  her  trem 
bling  limbs  refused  their  ollieo  and  ulie  sunk 
helplessly  back. 

Once  more  she  had  swooned  !  And  this 
time  it  seemed  as  if  a  trance  was  upon  her  ; 
so  protracted  and  almost  deathlike  was  tbe 
state  in  which  for  full  twenty-four  hours  she 
remained,  while  over  her  a  manly  form  kept 
ceaseles  watch, 

At  tho  end  of  that  time  came  a  salutary 
change,  not  only  from  both  mental  and  bodily 
insensibility  to  perfect  consciousness,  but  aUo 
from  the  former  frantic  agitation  to  u  milder 
mood. 

She  wus  now  more  composed  and  rational 
and  could  speak  with  comparative  calmness 
on  the  important  subject  which  so  engrossed, 
of  course,  her  thoughts.  Her  first  question 
was,— 

4  Tho  captain,  the  good  captuin,  Henry — 
did  you— did  you — reveal  my — my  sex  to 
him  ?'  she  stammered,  with  crimson  face  aud 
neck. 

4 1  did  not  tell  him  all — 1  did,  however,  give 
him  to  understand  that  tho  person  arrested 
was  your  brother,  but  this  involved  no  betray. 


al  of  jour  secret,  leaving  still  the  impression 
that  you  were  a  boy.1 

And  he— ho  would  not  listen  to  my  re 
quest  ?' 

4  l}o  did,  he  would  have  done  so,  but  for 
the  voice  of  others  Mis  generous  heart  was 
moved,  was  touched  by  your  distress  ;  I  saw 
it;  and  in  npito  of  every  obstacle,  I  fully  bo- 
lieve  he  would  have  put  tho  ship  about,  and 
carried  the  '  poor  boy'  as  ho  cal'ed  you,  back. 
But  others  were  less  considerate  ;  tho  passen 
gers  were  loud  in  their  murmurs  and  clamor 
ous  nguinst  the  delay  and  detention  it  would 
cause,  and  the  loss,  beside,  of  the  fair  wind, 
before  which  the  voyage  had  been  prosper 
ously  commenced.  Ho  saw  that  to  return 
would  oblige  him  to  beat  against  a  strung 
wind  into  the  harbor  ;  nor  wus  he  ignorant  ho 
had  no  right  to  put  about  for  port,  ufter  the 
vessel  had  onco  cleared.  You  can  perceive 
how  embarrassing  to  tho  generous  sailor  must 
have  been  his  situation  ;  you  know  how  long 
I  was  absent  from  you,  trying  to  prevail  on 
him,  but  in  vain  ;  he  felt  compelled  to  heed 
his  passengers'  remonstrances. 

4  Heartless,  unfeeling  men! — but  no,  I'll 
not  censure  them.  What  right  hud  I,  or  my 
private  sorrows  to  interfl-ro  with  their  plans  of 
enterprise  and  fortune  ?  It  were  presumption 
in  such  as  I  to  detain  thorn  ouu  hour  from  U>o 
prize  for  which  they  bravo  so  n  u  :h  !  1  must 
not  forget  that  my  poor  brother,  too,  sought 
the  same  golden  goal,1  said  the  no  less  gene 
rous  girl. 

As  she  spoke  tho  last  words,  her  cyo,  until 
now  vacant,  save  when  confined  to  the  coun 
tenance  of  her  lover,  wondered  around  the 
state  room. 

That  glance  changed  to  a  look  of  startled 
surprise,  as  a  second  gaze  convinced  her  of 
the  nature  of  the  placo,  which  contained  her* 
self  and  him  who  best  loved  her.  The  warm 
Hush  of  alarmed  modesty  colored,  even  yet 
more  rosily  her  check,  as  she  recoiled,  ox- 
claiming, — 


KIT  CARSON. 


45 


*  Where  have  you  brought  me,  Henry? — 
Why  did  yot,  bring  me  herer' 

The  youth  started  and  colored  as  deeply  as 
herself. 

4  Ellen  !'  he  said. 

1  0  Henry  !  I  litlle  thought  this  of  you  !' 
she  murmured,  in  painful  confusion;  my 
poor  brother,  ever  kind,  ever  considerate, 
once  bade  me  bcwaro  lest  you,  perchance, 
mi«jht  prove ' 

'  Ellen!  Ellen!' 

4  Leave  me,  sir !  Leave  me,  forever  ! 
was  tho  stern  command  of  offended  inno 
cence. 

•  God  of  Heaven  !  Ellen ' 

1  Libertine,  begone !' 

Vernal),  confounded,  was  silent,  though  he 
did  not  obey  her.  lie  could  not  misunder 
stand  her  meaning;  but  Im  astonishment  at 
such  a  misconstruction  ol  his  motives,  com 
pletely  thunderstruck  him.  Hcfore  ho  could 
find  words  for  answer,  H!IO  hud  anticipated 
him,  by  saying,  in  tho  snmo  firm  tone, — 

1  Reply  is  needless,  sir.  Try  not  by  words 
to  clonk  tho  purpose-  of  a  libertine  !  At 
least,  throw  not  over  the  open  villainy  of  yonr 
design,  the  transparent  veil  of  attempted  de 
ception.  Go,  sir,  I  renounce  you  and  your 
libertine  love  for  ever  !' 

And  with  a  hidden  face  and  a  choking 
voice,  she  motioned  him  from  the  state* 
room. 

\  Now,  if  ever,  was  tho  timo  for  the  lover  to 
speak,  now,  if  ever,  was  the  lime  for  him  to 
act !  He  took  one  step  forward,  he  knelt  at 
her  feet,  he  gently  clasped  her  trembling 
hand,  he  gazed  u->  into  the  averted  face,  with 
burning  blushes  dyed. 

That  hand  was  withdrawn,  but  so  slowly, 
so  quivcringly,  with  so  visible  an  effort,  that 
he  took  courage  to  venture  farther. 

1  Ellen,  Ellen,  you  whom  an  hour  ago  I 
should  not  have  trembled  to  call 4  dear,'  '  in 
a  low  and  pleading  voice  he  softly  said  '  do 
you,  can  you,  in  your  heart  impute  to  me  the 
unworthy  motive  you  accuse  m«  of?  Is  it 


possible  that,  in  your  estimation,  I  have  sunk 
so  low,  as ' 

4  Would  to  Heaven,  Henry,  I  had  no 
grounds  to  judge  you  thus;  but  this  scene, 
this  place,  your  bringing  me  here,'  sobbed 
the  wavering  girl,  one  moment  crimson  with 
maiden  shame,  the  next,  pale  with  alternat 
ing  fears  and  hopes;  4  alas!'  what  else  am 
I  to  think  ?  what  else  ought  I  to  suppose  and 
to  guard  myself  in  timo  ngainst  t  And  yet, 
dear  Henry,  you  whom  I  thought,  of  ail  your 
sex  tho  noblest — save  alone,  my  brother — 

to  deem  that  you  now ah  !  I  cunnot  speak 

the  word !' 

'  Uticr  it  not ! — ut.er  it  not !' 
And  me  emboldened  lover,  in  joy  at  her  re 
lenting,  leaped  up  from  his  knee,  and  casting 
one  arm  round  her  fragile  waist,  with  tho 
other  ho  drew  her  to  his  heaving  breast  and 
pressed,  with  passionate  fondness,  his  warm 
lips  to  her  own. 

Hut  tho  action  had  been  too  sudden,  the  re 
vulsion  too  abrupt ;  wavering  conviction  had 
been  mistaken  for  yielding  confidence,  and 
the  reconciliation-seeking  lover,  by  over  pre 
cipitation,  had  lost  his  vantage  ground  and 
ruined  his  cause. 

Like  some  charmed  bird,  breaking  from  the 
serpent's  fascination.  Ellen  freed  herself  of 
his  embrace,  with  the  haste  of  a  frightened 
fawn  ;  awakening  Vcrnon,  instantly,  to  a 
sense  of  his  error,  as  she  exclaimed,  in  indig 
nation, — 

1  Enough,  sir,  full  enough  1  I  can  no 
lor.ger  deceive  myself.  Now,  indeed,  you 
stand  unmasked,  unmasked  of  your  hypocri- 
cy  ;  I  know  you  now  for  a  heartless  liber- 
tiue.  Ha !  and  you  presume  so  far  upon 
your  power — did  you  deem  me  so  completely 
in  your  toils,  that  you  could  make  the  weak 
and  unprotected  girl  your  unresisting  preyl 
Henry  Vernon,  I  know  you  and  .defy  you  ! 
Dare  but  to  touch,  to  approach  mo — dare  but 
to  offer  a  second  insult,  or  a  repetition  of  the 
last,  and,  by  the  blessed  memory  of  my  de- 


46 


KIT  CARSON. 


parted  mother,  I  will  cry  out,  1  will  alarm  the 
ship  !' 

'  Do  to,'  said  the  tortured  lover,  calmly, 
coldly,  now;  for  pride,  love's  foe,  had  been 
harshly  awakened.  '  Do  so  ;  I  will  not  oppose 
you;  I  will  not  stay  your  hund,  I  will  not  still 
your  voice  ;  nor  will  I  fly  thin  spot,  Cull  out 
— I  will  not  stir  one  step.  Cull  out  to  those 
on  deck,  to  the  hundreds  above  our  heads, 
give  the  alarm,  bid  them  come  drag  me  from 
your  side,  us  the  coward  insulter  of  a  wo 
man. 

'Hear  me!'  he  continued,  'one  whisper 
of  your  durk  suspicion  to  the  noble  captain, 
and  an  hour,  perhaps,  would  see  me  dangling 
a  dishonored  corpse  from  yonder  yard-arm, 
by  the  justly  indignant  seaman's  orders — 
Hear,  girl,  hear !  I  arn  pointing  out  the  way 
in  which  you  can  avenge  your  insulted  inno 
cence  !  Come  !  I  will  even  help  you  to  your 
vengeance— what  cure  1  for  life,  when  one 
base  suspicion  can  lose  me  thus  your  love  ? 
for  what  should  Henry  Vcrnoa  wish  to  live, 
when  he  has  so  changed,  in  one  day's  time, 
that  nil  of  his  former  self  has  disappeared 
and  in  his  place  s'.ands  a  fiend  ?  O,  Ellen  ! 
cruel,  unfeeling  girl,  may  Heaven  pardon  you 
the  wrong  you  do  me  ?' 

A  convulsive  sob  burst  from  the  lips  that 
could  not  articulate  a  syllable. 

*  Ah,  now  you  hear  me — now  you  mark  my 
words !  It  is  well  ;  will  you  not  be  guided 
by  their  counsel  ?  Follow  it,'  pursued  the 
lover,  in  his  bitter  irony,  '  hesitate  not  an  in 
stant  more  to  give  the  alarm — your  revenge  is 
sure.  If  your  dark  thoughts  have  done  mo 
no  injustice,  my  punishment  cannot  bo  too 
great — death  at  the  yard-arm  of  the  vessel 
would  bo  but  a  meet  penalty  for  villainy  like 
mine.' 

The  ttudnnthad  paused,  with  folded  arms, 
and  his  dark  eye  fixed  full  upon  her.  One 
glance  at  that  open  brow,  one  look  at  that 
truthful  face,  one  long,  deep  gaze  into  those 
proud  orbs,  and  the  orphan  girl  sprang  to 
ward  Vernon. 


1  Forgive,  Henry,  forgive  me,  if  ever  you 
loved  me— if  you  still  can  love  the  wretched 
girl  who  has  dared,  in  her  thoughts,  to  do  you 
such  foul  wrong.  By  my  mother's  sainted 
soul  I  do  believe  you/ 

Love's  pardon  i«  granted  from  the  lips — it 
was  granted  now.  The  head  sank  confiding 
ly  once  more  upon  the  shoulder  that  BO  often 
had  pillowed  it,  while  a  soft  voice  slowly  mur 
mured, — 

4  What  a  wretch  was  I  to  doubt  you !' 
*  No,  no,  dear  Ellen  ;  it  was  but  proof  o'.' 
stainless  innocence  ;  I  love  you,  honor  you, 
yet  the  morf  for  it.  Believe  me,  dear  gir , 
believe  me,  it  was  concern  for  you  alone,  ap 
prehension  lest  the  secret  of  your  true  char 
acter  shonld  be  discovered,  that  actuated  me, 
when,  in  the  excitement  of  my  own  recogni 
tion  of  you,  in  my  wild  terror  at  your  swoon, 
I  bore  you  :o  the  only  retreat  known  to  me, 
—my  own  state  room — where  you  could  be 
secure  from  vulgar  curiosity  or  idle  observa 
tion.' 

'  Ah,  how  could  I  doubt  your  generous  na 
ture  ?' 

1  One  word  more — it  was  imprudent  in 
me ;  I  should  have  thought  of  your  maiden 
modesty,  I  should  have  been  less  precipitate. 
I  should,  at  least,  then,  have  saved  myself 
from  such  bitter  retlections  on  my  mistaken 
motives;  bitter,  O  how  bitter!  delicately,  in 
genuously  as  they  were  framed.  But  say  no 
more  of  this  ;  it  ia  forgotten,  dearest.'  / 

1  Forgotten,  0  lot  it  be.  It  was  tho  wild 
excitement,  the  delirium  of  tho  moment,  of 
oil  1  had  gone  through,  that  conjured  up  that 
senseless  fancy  in  thin  heated  brain.  Hut,  dear 
Henry,'  eho  added,  and  hesitated,  while  tho 
deep  blushes  again  suffused  her  lovely  face, 
'  I  cannot  remain  here.' 

1  You  must  not !  I  will  procure  another  for 
your  use  ;  or  stay  !  I  will  nurrcrder  this  -to 
your  sole  privacy,  while  I  find  other  quarters 
for  myself.' 

'  No,  Henry  ;  I  am  myself  entitled  to  a 
berth  on  board  this  ship  ;  I,  too,  have  paid 


KIT  CARSON. 


47 


my  passage  to  fatal  California.  But  I  had 
forgotten  that  you  know  nothing  of  this.' 

Henry  Vernon  was  indeed  ignorant  of  all 
— at  least,  he  knew  nothing  save  by  surmise: 
and  it  was  with  gladness-  that  he  now  saw  her 
at  length  sufficiently  calm  and  composed  to 
explain  that  which  still  perplexed  and  puz 
zled  him. 

She  did  so  briefly  and  clearly. 

On  the  night  when  Vernon  and  Lincoln 
had  announced  their  intention  of  seeking,  to 
gether,  the  shores  of  California,  the  shocked 
and  startled  sister  formed  the  determination 
of  accompanying  them. 

This  was  her  resolution,  actually,  though 
suddenly  conceived  ;  but  how  to  bring  it  to 
execution  was  the  difficulty.  It  was  evident 
to  the  resolute  girl,  that  if  she  sought  success 
in  her  scheme,  she  must  contrive  to  prevent 
any  discovery  of  her  presence  on  board  by 
Eugene  and  his  companion  ;  at  least  until  the 
ship  hud  sailed  ;  for  she  was  well  assured, 
that  once  at  sea,  it  would  be  impossible  to  re 
turn  ;  and  her  grand  object  was,  therefore,  to 
conceal  her  identity  until  all  danger  of  dis 
covery  should  be  past. 

At  length  she  hit  upon  a  plan.  She  would 
assume  the  dress  and  manners  of  a  boy,  and 
ascertaining  the  ship  in  which  they  were  to 
sail,  in  this  disguise  take  passage  in  her.  Her 
brother's  liberality  had  provided  her  with  the 
pecuniary  means  necessary  to  the  plan's  ex 
ecution. 

The  three  hundred  dollars  of  the  provision 
made  for  her,  she  contracted  for  her  passage 
with,  in  the  character  of  a  boy.  But  that  the 
worthy  dame,  her  kind  guardian,  mit;ht  not 
be  distressed  and  terrified  by  her  sudden  dis 
appearance,  before  going  on  board,  she  put 
in  the  post  office  a  letter,  fully  explaining  all 
the  reasons  for  the  strange  proceedings  and 
stating  that,  once  at  sea,  she  should  he  under 
her  kind  brother's  protection,  and  free  from 
danger. 

The  rest,  Ellen's  auditor  already  knew  ; 
the  embarkation,  the  interruption,  the  arrest 


of  the  devoted  young  man,  the  separation  of 
brother  and  sister  ;  these  he  had  been,  like 
the  reader,  a  witness  to. 

Both  the  young  girl  and  her  sole  remaining 
protector,  were  deeply  affected  in  recurring 
to  that  thrilling  reminiscence,  though  Henry 
did  his  best  to  comfort  the  sweet  girl,  assur 
ing  her  that  it  would  all  turn  out  for  the  best : 
for  a  beneficent  Providence  never  deserted 
afilictcd  innocence. 

Ellen  seemed  to  derive  consolation  from  the 
same  heavenly  source,  bearing  up  against  her 


Several  days  had  elapsed.  The  good  ship 
was  already  far  upon  her  voyage.  Hundreds 
of  leagues  had  been  passed  ;  the  vessel  was  a 
rapid  sailer.  Ellen  Lincoln,  still  retaining 
her  boy's  disguise,  was  little  seen  at  first,  but 
then  it  was  always  in  Henry's  company,  and 
always  productive  of  interest  among  the  pas 
sengers,  whose  attention  had  been  so  pecu 
liarly  drawn  toward  ihe  supposed  youth  and 
his  misfortune. 

This  reserve  by  drgrees  wore  off,  and  ero 
maiy  days,  she  was  almost  constant  in  her 
daily  appearance  upon  deck,  the  watchful 
Henry  ever  by  her  side,  to  guard  her  from 
all  danger  that  a  lover's  ready  concern  oould 
apprehend. 

It  was  a  clear  and  beautiful  evening,  save 
that  the  winter  air  was  keen  and  cold,  and  the 
sun  was  selling  in  the  de^p,  dark  ocean  to 
the  westward,  where  no  sign  of  land  was  visi 
ble  to  bound  the  watery  horizon.  The  pas 
sengers,  ail  save  Henry  and  Ellen,  had,  ap 
parently,  just  descended  to  the  supper-tuble 
•in  the  grand  cabin,  and  BC  the  two  latter,  at 
tracted  by  ihe  beauty  and  grandeur  of  the 
scene,  lingered  by  the  compuny-way,  re 
luctant  to  tear  themselves  from  the  enjoy 
ment  of  so  fine  a  prospect,  a  sudden  and  un 
expected  incident  took  place. 

That  which  first  caught  their  attention  was 
the  sound  of  a  shambling  and  unsteady  step 


48 


KIT  CARSON. 


slowly  ascending.  It  seemed  to  come  from 
the  steerage,  and  it  was  but  a  moment  ere 
they  beheld,  on  turning  thoir  looks  thilher,  a 
person  emerge  from  the  hatchway  of  the 
second  class  cabin,  nnd  stagger  along  with 
that  peculiar  wavering  gait  and  scorning 
looseness  of  the  limbs,  which  characterise  the 
human  system  when  under  the  influence  of 
that  notorious,  but  not  favorably-  known,  dis 
ease,  sea-sickness, 

The  comparatively  deserted  state  of  tho 
decks  caused  their  observation  to  revert  to 
that  which  otherwise  would  have  passed  un 
noticed  ;  and  when  the  steerage  passenger 
appeared,  confining  himself,  however  to  that 
portion  of  the  vessel  assigned  to  his  class,  his 
peculiar  aspect  was  well  calculated  to  fix  tho 
curious  eye. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  but  on  old  man— un 
old  man,  simply  ;  Ina  white  hairs  flouting  in 
long,  spare  locks  from  a  partially  bald  fore 
head  ;  his  body  so  distorted  by  tho  weight  of 
years,  apparently,  that  tho  curved  back  as 
sumed  almost  tho  shapeless  hunch  of  defor 
mity,  and  gave  him  the  appearance  of  walk- 
ing  doublo  ;  imparting  thus  an  air  of  dccrepi' 
tude,  greater,  probably  than  was  tho  case,  but 
in  nowise  diminished  by  the  peculiar  carriage 
of  the  head,  which,  thrust  unnaturally  for 


ward,  and  resting  on  his  stooping  chest,  into 
prominent  relief  threw  his  protuberant  chin, 
well  nigh  meeting  the  sharp,  thin  nose,  be 
tween  which  the  skinny  and  shrivelled  lips 
lost  themselves,  and  their  toothless  gums. 
But  the  chief  and  most  expressive  feature  was 
tho  eye  ;  it  was  small,  sunken,  but  piercing 
as  that  of  a  serpent  and  full  of  shrewdness 
and  cunning  ;  though  there  was  also  a  certain 
wildness  in  it,  which  was  difficult  to  define 
at  first. 

Slowly  hobbling  along,  evidently  overcome 
by  tho]  nausea  of  sea-sickness,  this  grotesque 
portrait  shufllud  to  the  bulwark  of  the  steerage 
and  leaning  over  tho  side  for  air,  his  withered 
fr.co  turrned  more  fully  toward  ',hu  two  young 
passengers  above. 

Shuddering,  she  scarce  knew  why,  Ellen 
whispered  : — 

4  Lot  us  go— let  us  go !  I  like  not  that  old 
man's  looks.' 

Hut  almost  at  the  same  instant  «ho  felt  the 
young  man  beside  her  violently  start,  in  a 
tofio  bordering  on  horror,  ejaculating  : 

4  It  is — it  is  ! — Jn/iii  Vcrnun  a  passenger 
in  this  ship!'  , 

The  old  man  raised  his  head  and  tho  eyes 
of  both  met. 


KIT  CARSON. 


40 


The  Voyage  of  the  Gold  Hunters—  The 
Monomt'iiitlt's  History— The  old  Miser's 
Scheme. 


OR  the  moment  all 
was  still, all  was  silence 
unbroken.  The  two 
stood,  epcll-bound.ga/.- 
ing  at  each  other, — 
Henry,  thunderstruck 
by  the  discovery. 

4  'Tis  he — 'tis  he — John  Vernon  !  and  my 
mother's  presentiments,  my  own  suspicions, 
were  correct !'  Henry  found  voice,  nt  length, 
to  exclaim. 

Hut  thn  old  man  had  disappeared  ! 
The  lips  of  Ellen  repeated  the  name, — 
'John    Vernon,  John    Vernon!    Ha!  wns 
not  Out  the  name  of  the  creditor  who  caused 
Eugene's  arrest?  was  not  that  tho  name  pro 
nounced  by  the  officer? 

Slightly  started  the  stuocnt  as  he  answer- 
ed,- 

'  It  was  !  it  was !— and  my  uncle  was  that 
man.' 

'  Your  u-.cle  ?' 

4  My  uncle,  Ellen.  Yonder  old  man  stands 
in  that  light  to  me — but,  I  had  forgotten,  ho 
is  gone. 

4  He  a  relative  of  yours,  Henry  ?  lie,  tho 
unfeeling  person  through  whose  agency  my 
brother  was  ruthlessly  torn  from  me  !  Vernon 
— Vernou  !  aha  !  I  ace  now  ;  it  must  be  so  ; 


this  is  your  family  name  !'  breathlessly  ex- 
cla.med  the  young  girl,  all  astonishment  at 
what  she  had  seen  and  heard. 

'  And  accursed  bo  the  relationship,'  mut. 
thered  the  youth,  in  a  suppressed  tone. 

4  You  love  him  not,  then  ;  you  love  not  your 
kinsman  ?'  was  tin  gi.I's  eager  demand  ;  •  O 
say  !  why  did  he  thus  persecute  my  unfortu- 
natc  brother  ?' 

'  As  Heaven  is  above  me,  I  know  not  ! 
was  the  impressive  reply  ;  •  I  know  not,  I 
say,  and  yet  it  is  not  difficult  to  guess.  As  a 
m.sorly  man,  John  Vernon  has  ever  been  well 
known— it  is  not  wonderful  that  he  should 
pursue  a  luckless  debtor  to  the  last.' 

4  His  debtor!  Eugene  a  debtor  of  his?  My 
brother  was  no  man's  debtor,'  replied  Ellen, 
quickly. 

4  Are  you  sure  of  this?' 

'  Perfectly,  Henry  !  Solemnly  he  assured 
me,  when  he  BO  amply  provided  for  my  wel- 
fare,  that  I  need  not  scruple  to  accept  all,  for 
he  had  still  retained  sufficient  to  equip  him 
for  his  destined  voyage,  and  owed  not  a  dol 
lar  in  tho  world— that  ihis  was  all  that  he 
cared  for.' 

4  Still,'  said  Vernon,  doubtfully, 4  it  was  for 
debt  ho  was  arrested.' 

4  It  was— and  this  it  is  that,  now  I  reflect 
on  it,  most  surprises  me  !  But  I  am  confident 
Eugeneicould  not  have  been  mistaken.' 

'  Some  trivial  obligation  he  might  have  for 
gotten,'  suggested  Henry. 

4  No,  no;  ho  was  ever  itrict  in  such  mat- 
ters.  Nay,  more  ;  he  never  contracted  even 


r,o 


KIT  CARSON. 


the  smallest  liabilities ;  his  meagre  salary  was 
made  to  suffice  fur  all.  This  I  have  often 
heard  him  declare.' 

1  Indeed  I1  uttered  Vernon,  thoughtfully,  for 
ho  wan  daggered, 

•  Then  there  must  have  been  some  othor 
motive  at  work  !  What  else  could  it  bo,' 
pursued  the  student,  reflectingly,  '  If,  as  you 
nsHcrt,  no  debt  really  exists,  then  it  could  not 
be  to  a  creditor's  avarice,  merely  that  the 
arrest  was  owing.  A»-d  besides,  now  I  think 
of  it,  what  possible  indebtedness  could  the 
poor  merchant's  clerk  have  incurred  to  such 
a  mun  us  my  uncle  ?  One  thing,  therefore, 
is  plain ' 

'  And  that  is——'  ventured  the  anxious 
Ellen  ' 

'That  the  alleged  debt  was  nothing  but  a 
fiction.' 

»  A  fiction — but  the  purpose — what  conld 
bo  the  purpose  ?' 

*  Of  that  I  am  ignorant,  Ellen,  save  that  it 
might  bo  a  device  to  detain  your  brother.— 
Indeed  that  is  the  only  light  in  which  I  can 
look  at  the  matter   now ;  as  a  sheer  fabrica 
tion  originating  from  malicious  motives.' 

In  fresh  surprise,  Ellen  asked, — 
'  But,   IIenry,«what   connexion  could  exist 
between  your  uncle  and  Eugene  ?      I  never 
knew  that  ho  was  acquainted  with  any  mem- 
ber  of  your  family  beside  yourself.' 

*  To  my  certain  knowledge  ho  was  not,'  re 
plied  Vernon  with  deep  deliberation,  while 
his   brow   contracted  slightly,  as  conflicting 
conclusions   seemed  to   agitato  his  thoughts, 
1 I/iHtun  to  mo,  Ellen  I      The    more  1  reflect, 
thu  more  am  1  satisfied,  that  but  one  possible 
way  is  there  to  account  for  the  course  so  sin 
gularly  taken  by  my  kinsman    I  have  reasons 
of  my  own  Ellen/  continued  the  young  men, 
in  a  moaning  tone,  *  for  believing  thia.rclative 
of  mine  to  bo  no  friend  to  mo  or  my^velfuro  ; 
and  cause  to  four,  also,  that  If,  by  subtle  con* 
trivanoe,  I  cnn  be  at  uny  time  removed  from 
his  way,  the  cunning  attempt  will   not  fail  of 
being  made.     Nuy,  di  not  yet  interrupt  me  I 


—the  suspicion  that  has  occurred  to  me  is 
thin,— 

And  the  speaker's  voice  became  a  whisper 
as  hn  nddeit,— 

*  IJy  some  unknown  means  my  uncle  might 
hnvu  ascertained   that  n  bosom    friend,  nnd 
that  friend  your  brother,  was  to  accompany 
me.     And,  knowing  this,  if,  as  I  strongly  sus 
pect,  his  designs  against  my  t>afcty  are  to  bo 
put  in  execution  dnring  this  voyage— -would 
not  his  crafty   mind  first   Ruggost  to  him  the 
expediency  of  removing   from  his   nephew'* 
presence  and  his  nephew's   side,  one  whose 
friendly  bund  and  friendly  aid*  would  ever  be 
near  to  pro;cct  nnd  defend  the  destined  vic 
tim.     Thus,  thus  only,  can  I  explain  it ;  this 
was  the  first  precaution  to  bo  taken,  nnd  thus 
to  the  fu:t  of  being  my  friend,  Eugene  owes 
his  arrest.' 

EHen,  lost  in  wonder,  was  a  moment  silent, 
then  .-aid,  with  a  shudder,— 

'Dread  Man!  And  this,  then,  was  but  a 
malicious  prosecution  a  stratagem  to  xeparato 
you  from  a  friend,  who  might  interfere  with 
his  dark  purposes.  And  this,  Henry,  fruin 
an  uncle.' 

'  Yes,  Ellen,  this  from  an  uncle — this  and 
more  !  Think  not  that  I  have  judged  him 
harshly — for  to  you,  alone,  have  I  ever,  us 
yet,  breathed  it— the  first  attempt  has  been 
made.' 

*  What !  hero   on   board  ?'  in  quick  alarm 
inquired  Ellcti. 

'  No,  not  in  this  ship,  thank  God,  but  on 
the  distant  shores  we  have  left  behind.  It  was 
in  lioston,  Ellen.  Enough  that  by  a  hired 
villein  of  this  same  uncle  I  was  beset,  not 
one  week  ere  this  ship  and  I  quitted  the  city. 
They  sought  to  implicate  me  in  a  street  fight 
that,  in  the  brawl,  I  might  seem  to  have  per 
ished  by  the  reckless  hand  of  some  maddened 
rioter,  instead  of  receiving  my  death-blow  by 
deliberate  deVign.  Dim  re  at  Ellen,  yournoblo 
brother,  by  chance  prevented  the  complete 
success  of  this  I  ellish  plan  for  my  secret  as- 
BU">ination  ;  and,  defeated  in  this,  by]  my 


KIT  CARSON. 


uncle's  bribed  mercenary,  I  was  subsequent 
ly  wa)  laid,  and  my  life  attempted  by  an  open 
murderer's  hand.  It  was  alone  in  tho  grounds 
of  Harvard  University,  at  night  after  twelve 
o'clock — in  defending  myself,  I  turned  his 
own  weapon  upon  him,  in  wresting  it  from  his 
iron  gra?p  ;  by  accident  it  was  discharged, 
and  I  unwittingly  became  his  executioner.' 

1  His  executioner,'  iterated  the  appalled 
girl.  . 

'  Hush  !  speak  lower — even  so.  But  heed 
me  well.  Now  murk  what  followed.' 

And  still  closer  to  her  side  he  drew,  und 
more  warily  still  sunk  the  deep,  low  voice,  as 
he  spoke  to  her  then  of  that  to  which  the 
reader  is  as  yet  a  stranger. 

4  Hist!  no  cur  must  hear  me,  save  your 
own.  The  murderous  attempt  was  defeated, 
the  assassin  slr.in, yet  all  danger  was  not  gone 
— one  greater,  more  forbidding  than  all  the 
rest,  remained  :  I  had  killed  a  fellow  being. 
There  were  no  witnesses  of  the  man's  pre 
vious  attack  upon  my  life,  no  proof  that  he 
was  t»n  assassin  ;  the  law  might  regard  me  as 
his  murderer;  nay,  it  would,  were  his  death 
by  my  hand  known  I 

4  One  thing  admitted  of  no  doubt  ;  I  must 
conceal    the  body,  and  with  it  the  deed  for 
ever.      But   what  course  could  I  take,  even 
in  this?     To  drag  the  corpse  to  some  place 
of  concealment,  would  involve  me   in   immi 
nent  danger  of  discovery.     To  leave  it  thus 
exposed  was  greater  peril  still.    The  chances 
of  reaching   some  secure  hiding-place,  were 
as  one  to  ten  against  it.     I  was  filled  with  de 
spair,  with  utter  despondency,  when  Heaven 
itself  seemed  to  come  to  my  aid.' 
'  How,  Henry,  how  ?' 
'  A  snow-storm  had  commenced  1    !  hailed 
it  as  a  harbinger.  Gladly,  exultingly.I  watch 
ed  the  very  snow  flakes  as  they  fell !    Down, 
down  they  came,  thick  and  fast  in  one  cease 
less  shower  of  sparkling  atoms,  as  if  the  skies 
were  raining  pearls  ;  and  priceless,  as  a  gem 
in  truth  seemed  then  each  falling  snow  drop 
for  how  could  I  well  be  blind  to  the  possible 


consequences  ?  I  was  not  deceived  ;  in  one 
hour  the  snow  was  a  foot  deep  :  »nd  long  ere 
tho  earliest  riser  in  the  city  had  stirred  abroad, 
it  lay,  to  twice  that  depth,  above  the  breast  of 
the  dead  man  !' 

'  Wonderful  Providence  !'  ejaculated  his 
sole  auditor. 

*  Wonderful,  indeed — for  quickly  I  saw, 
that  beneath  that  covering  the  dead  budy  could 
lay  undiscovered,  so  long  as  that  covering  re 
mained.  The  corpse  was  completely  hidden 
from  view,  the  storm  vvus  the  heaviest  of  the 
winter,  tho  weather  each  hour  acquiring  a 
colder  temperature,  and  tho  snow  was  on  the 
increase.  1  fell  that,  for  the  timo  hc'ing,  I  wus 
sale,  and  thus  assured,  I  hastened  away.  Tlio 

next  night  I  returned  to  the  spot ' 

1  Returned  !'  echoed  the  eager  listener. 
*  Yes,  dearest,  I  returned,  at  midnight,  to 
examine  for  myself.  The  rf  suit  was  all  that 
could  wish.  The  snow  luy  in  heavy  drifts 
over  the  hidden  corpse,  arid,  since  the  pre 
ceding  night,  had  slightly  hardened.  Deter 
mined  to  inspect  the  appearance  of  the  body, 
with  my  hands  I  dug  aside  the  snow,  and 
when  the  object  I  sought  lay  exposed  to  view 
once  more,  I  at  once  perceived  that  its  strange 
immersion  had  not  only  had  the  eflVct  of  pre 
serving  the  lifeless  remains,  but  had  caused 
the  blood  to  congeal,  and  the  wounds  to  close 
and  cicatrize,  so  as  nearly  to  destroy  all  ap 
pearance  of  a  sanguinary  death.  It  was  the 
result  of  excessive  cold  and  seclusion  from 
the  air ;  I  could  easily  account  fur  tho  phe 
nomenon  on  philosophic  principles. 

At  this  juncture  the  narrator  paused  an  in 
stant,  but  only  to  resume  again, — 

1  Cautiously  I  covered  up  once  more  tho 
body,  replacing  the  snow  I  had  removed,  but 
before  I  did  so,  I  was  destined  to  make  one 
more  discovery.  In  the  waistcoat-pocket  of 
the  dead  man,  I  accidentally  found  a  slip  of 
paper,  on  which,  drawn  up  in  the  form  of  a 
contract,  was  an  agreement  with  John  Vernon 
in  substance  amounting  to  this, — that  for  a 
certain  service  at  date  performed,  the  bearer 


KIT  CARSON. 


•houlJ  bo  entitled  to  five  hundred  dollars,  or 
to  •uoh  a  HIIIP  oi  should  be  found  sufficient 
to  defray  tho expense*  of an  ouilU  oud  voyugn 
to  California.' 

•  Ha  !  was  this  the  bribe  ?' 

•This  was  the  bribe  !'  replied  Vcrnon,  to 
her  abrupt  question.  Struck  by  this  singular 
condition,  at)  the  price  of  such  an  act,  I  ex 
amined  more  closely  the  person  of  iho  dead 
man ' 

'Well,  Henry,  the  result?1  ragerly  inter 
rupted  Ellen, 

•  lie  did  not  ncom,  by  that  s  irvey,  to  bo  a 
common  ruffian  ;  on  the  contrary,  his  appear 
ance  WUH  nut  that  of  a  hnrdoncd  desperado  : 
I  called  to  in'iid  tho  UUvkillfulnOM  of  the  at 
tempted  UHsussiniuioM,  which  I  hud  NO  easily 
biilllinl ;  uin.1  now  1  remember,  also,  tlutt  thu 
dying  Hlon'i  COttfowloitj  broken  though  it  wiw, 
\viis  couched  in  better  language  thun  was  nu- 
turul  to  a  mere   ruffian,  and   with   till   those 
things    before   my  eyes,  1  could  not  but  con 
ceive  tho  case  of  some  weak  mnn  who,  bereft 
of  judgment  mid  reason  by  iho  daixiing  prot* 
poet  of  tho  gulden   tre.nwnrrs  which  huvo  PC* 
half  tho  world   delirioun,  in  nn  evil  hour  was 
tempted  to  Inward  tho   Arnt    grnnt  crimo   of 
vacillating  honesty,  and  madly  neck,  through 
human  blood,  to  win  tho  goal.' 

4  Fearful,  how  fearful,  then,*  uttered  Ellen, 
1  ID  tho  double  responsibility  that  resin  upon 
your  undo !' 

1  True,  true ;  such,  tco,  bus  been  my  own 
thought.  In  iho  meantime,  (ill  my  arrange* 
incut*  for  immediate  departure  hud  been  per 
fected  :  for,  notwithstanding  fortune  thus  fa 
vored  me,  1  was  wc.l  aware  thut  the  first 
disappearance  of  tho  snow  would  revoal  its 
secret,  and  1  knew,that  no  timo  wus  to  bo 
lost ;  flight  was  my  only  surety  for  safety,  und 
all  wan  prepared  to-—' 

4  Embark  for  California — wan  it  not  no  ?' 

•  It  watt,  Kllcn,  you  now  know  tho  truo  rea 
son  of  the  step  1  have  tukcn,  and  you  alone; 
to  you,  as  tho  sister  of  him  who,  in  the  first 
instance  saved  me  from  my  uncle'd  malignity, 


this  explanation  was  due,  more  than  to  all 
other*,  snvo  Eugene  himself.  Will  you  be* 
lieve  it,  dear  girl?— when  on  tho  wharf  I 
heard  those  ominous  words  of  the  officer,—- 
'  In  the  name  of  the  law  1'  at  once, across  my 
mind  flashed  tho  terrible  suspicion  that  it  wns 
mynelf  tho. police  had  come  to  arrest,  and  for 
the  murder  of  the  rioter,  by  some  means  dis- 
covered.' 

'  I  saw  you  start ;  I  noticed  your  agitation, 
as  I  stood  near  you,  the  supposed  boy  who 
lingered  at  your  side.' 

1  Indeed  1  1  know  not  that  it  was  so  marked 
— Heaven  pardon  John  Vernon  for  the  misery 
ho  has  caused.' 

*  Heaven  pardon  h'ur,  indeed  !  So  cruel ! 
no  rduntloMNl  HO  wicked  I  and  yet,  so  ogcd 
and  venerable  I* 

And  for  u  Nocond  timo  oho  shuddered  nt  iho 
thought  of  him. 

Vernon  groaned  bitterly,  as  he  echoed  her 
fervent  adjuration,  and  tho  dark  flush  of 
anger  rose  fiercely  to  his  cheek,  but  he  immo. 
ditttoly oltocked  tho  Irritating  thought,  ero  ut- 
torod,  Haying,— 

1  No,  no  ;  I  will  not  curnohirni  ho  5*  my 
father'b  brother,  and  more  than  th's,  I  mu»t 
not  forget  that  he  is ' 

4  What,  Harry,  what?  why  do  you  pause  ?' 
demanded  Kllen,  quickly, 

4  Deranged  ;  thai  ho  in  dcrangml,  nt  k'OHf, 
in  11  mouHuro  MO,' 

'  Deranged !— that  will  account  for  thnt 
Rtrungo  wildncHH  in  bin  eye.  1  half  sunpectpd 
it;  and,  indeed,  indeed,  it  muut  boxol'ex- 
cluimod  tho  ingcnuoun  creature,  •  for  never, 
in  his  riyht  senses,  could  one  so  old,  BO  near 
tho  grave,  be  guilty  of  such  wickedness.' 

4  In  one  scnso  you  nro  right.  Deranged  in 
mind  ho  is,  but  only  HO  in  ono  particular  way, 
— where  avarice,  cupidity,  covetonNWN»,  IN 
concerned.  In  every  oilier  light  IIO'H  rational.  '* 
In  thin,  ho  is  little  short  of  a  mudmnn.  Still 
ho  in  not  innuno,  otrictly  ppeaking.' 

4 1  understand— n  miser's  monomania,'  naid 
Ellen. 


KIT  CARSON. 


53 


4  Right,  dearest,  right !  To  prove  it,  I  will 
give  you,  in  a  few  words,  that  old  man's  his 
tory.  ASQ  boy  he  was  penurious  and  grasp 
ing  ;  as  a  man  he  is  the  veiy  incarnation  of 
avarice.  A  greater  miser  than  John  Vcrnon 
never  lived,  though  everywhere  you  may  find 
his  like.  His  whole  existence,  his  youth,  his 
manhood,  his  married  life,  all  are  so  many 
evidences  of  it ' 

'  His  married  life  ?' 

'  You  look  surprised, — yes,  he  once  was 
married,  miser  as  he  is.  But  not  from  love, 
Ono;  gold,  gold,  gold,  has  ever  been  his 
only  love.  Avarice  it  was  in  this,  as  in  every 
jhing  else  that  prompted  him.  lie  married  a 
fortune — no  other  consideration  would  ever 
have  induced  a  man  like  him  to  burden  him 
self  with  the  expenses  of  a  family.  His  young 
and  handsome  wife ' 

*  Young  and  handsome,  rich  and  Beautiful,' 
interposed  Kllen,  '  und  yet  throw  herselfaway 
upon  a  sordid  husband  V 

*  It    was,   alas,   one   of  thoso    mercenary 
matches  so  frequent  among  the    richer  class 
of  society, — mercenary,  not  in  her,  but  in  the 
heartless  parents  who  drove  their  daughter  to 
the  step  that  ruined  her  happiness  ;  for  John 
Vernon,  though  notoriously  a  penurious  and 
covetous  man,  was  known,  as  well,  to  be  the 
possessor  of  great  wealth,  greater  even,  it  is 
supposed,  than  that  of   his   brother,   my  own 
father.     Yet,  as  if  a  judgment  upon  them  for 
their  cruelty,  all  their  selfish  expectations  ol 
benefit  from  the  alliance,   were    doomed  to 
disappointment. 

*  John  Vernon,  by  constant  importunity 
and  menaces,  gradually  induced  his  too  yield 
ing  wife  to  sign  away,  piecemeal,  her  rights, 
to  property  after  property,  till  all  was  at  his 
own  control ;  and  then,  when  she  no  longer 
had  legal  command  of  any  part  of  her  dowry, 
•he  suddenly  threw  off  the  mask,  and  the 
miser  stood  forth  revealed  in  his  most  repul 
sive  colors.  From  a  splendid  home  he  re 
moved  her  to  a  comparative  hovel,  curtailed 
almost  every  expense,  and  denied  her  the 


very  necessities  of  life!  Nay,  more;  he 
doomed  her  to  the  veriest  drudgery — yes, 
compelled  her,  the  child  of  luxury  and  afflu 
ence,  to  perform  the  most  degrading  offices  ; 
he  made  her  his  slave.' 

'  Ilorr.ble!'  exclaimed  Ellen. 
'  Horrible,  indeed  ;  her's  from  tliatdny  wag 
the  life  of  a  miser's  wife.  Food  and  clothes 
save  in  the  scantiest,  most  beggarly  pittances 
were  refused  to  the  wretched  wife  and  to  her 
suffering  children,  for  two  poor  innocents  had 
the  misfortune  to  call  John  Vernon  father.— 
For  years  she  struggled  on,  patiently,  resign 
edly,  uucomplainingly,  but  when  she  saw  her 
children  growing  up,  without  society,  without 
the  commonest  advantages  of  education, 
doomed  to  poverty  in  the  midst  of  their  fa 
ther's  hoarded  gains,  she  could  endure  no 
longer:  and,  after  vain  and  long  remon 
strances,  a  mother's  harrowed  feeling  forced 
her  to  that  final  ste;)  which  a  wife's  duty  had 
so  long  restrained  her  from. 

1  With  her  two  children,  that  wife  and  mo 
ther  fled  from  the  unfeeling  father!  Whither 
she  had  gone  he  know  not,  he  only  knew  that 
in  flight  she  sought  rofuge.  Long  he  sought 
hut  found  no  trace  of  her  or  of  her  children. 
For  months  she  evaded  all  search,  supporting 
herself  and  them,  in  the  meantime,  by  her 
own  industry.  But  the  heartless  miser  had' 
found  her  necessary  to  his  comfort ;  he  miss- 
ed  his  hapless  drudge  ;  he  determined  to  re 
cover  her,  if  possible. 

'At  the  end  of  a  twelvemonth,  however, 
he  succeeded,  at  length,  in  discovering  hi* 

wife ' 

'  Discovered  her !'  with  a  thrill  of  alarm 
iterated  Ellen. 

*  Found  and  took  her,  with  her  poor,  help* 
less,  children,  back  from  their  humble  but 
peaceful  life,  to  his  hovel  he  removed  them. 
The  same  menial  duties,  the  same  brggar's 
fare,  the  same  bitter  cup  of  misery  and  deg 
radation,  once  more  were  her's;  and  now,  as 
if  to  heap  up  the  measure  of  her  woe,  he 
would  have  bound  her  young  children  to  th« 


KIT  CARSON,  , 


lowest  occupations,  to  swell  an  unnatural 
parent1!  hoarded  wealth,  A  despairing  re 
signation  to  her  lot,  had  come  gradually  over 
Itor  i  but  iliin  once,  a  rm  thor's  npprehcnNionH 
and  a  mother's  energies,  Slio  watched  her 
opportunity  and  escaped  * 

'  Again  escaped  !— thank  God  !'  uttered  tho 
girl,  fervently. 

'  You  have  not  heard  all.  This  time  tho 
fugitives  eluded  their  pursuer,  completely, — 
Their  former  plnco  of  refugo  hntl  evidently 
boon  exchanged  fur  name  now  nnd  more  M> 
cure  retreat — and  in  vuin  did  ho  visit  the  first, 
in  vain  did  ho  seek  for  tho  faintest  sign  of  the 
last.' 

1  Heaven  bo  praised  for  that  !*  exclaimed 
Ellen, 

'  Years  paused  on,  and  still  their  second 
hiding  plnco  was  as  fur  from  discovery  an 
over,  Six  of  those  ^oars  hnd  elapsed,  and 
nearly  all  hope  of  detecting  h*>r  concealment 
had  been  surrendered,  even  by  tho  miser ; 
when,  one  day,  by  mere  accident,  his  fugitive 
wifo  ho  unexpectedly  mot,  fuco  to  face,  in  the 
great  city !' 

1  How  horrible — how  unfortunate  I1  ejacu 
lated  tho  listener. 

4  She  would  have  fled  in  horror  from  tho 
wretch's  presence,  but  the  stern  husband 
summoned  to  his  aid  the  strong  arm  of  the 
law,  to  compel  her  to  return  to  his  hateful 
home.  But  though  once  more  in  his  dread 
ed  power,  tho  noble  mother  resolutely  refused 
to  reveal  the  retreat  of  her  children,  who  still 
remained  concealed.  He  had  treated  her  with 
brutality  and  heartlessness  before,  but  now 
she  had  to  endure  tho  most  galling  tyranny 
and  cruelty  that  vengeful  malignity  could  in 
flict;  yet  nothing  could  force  her  to  betray 
the  secret  so  vital  to  her  chi'dren's  welfare. 
He  daily  increased  tho  rigor  of  his  treatment 
He  confined  her  to  her  chamber,  denied  her 
food,  save  barely  sufficient  to  sustain  life,  and 
with  every  imaginable  hardship  brought  to 
ocar  upon  his  infernal  scheme,  sought  literally 
to  starve  her  to  his  purpose.  But  little  knew 


the  stony-hearted  miser  the  strength  and 
power  of  a  mother's  devotion  to  her  off- 
spring;  maternal  resolution  hasted  even  when 
reason  full— for  fall  it  did,  at  length,  beneath 
her  maddening  lujsi-rios,  and  tho  persecuted 
wife  of  John  Vcrnon  became  a  maniac;1 

'A  maniac  1—0  God  1' 

4  A  rnging  maniac  sho*bocamo  ;  but  with  in 
sanity's  wild  delirium  came  also  the  strange 
strength  and  cunning  ^o!  madness,  so  pecu 
liarly  its  own,  Yet  her  violence  seemed  di 
rected  rather  against  herself  than  ngninst 
others  ;  a  settled  resolution  to  work  her  self- 
destruction.  One  fatal  night,  when  her  miser 
husband,  now  horror  struck  at  tho  fearful  re 
sult  of  his  fiendish  persecution,  hud  visited 
her  in  her  confinement,  aho  sei/cd  tho  oppor 
tunity  to  procipitato  honalfupon  him,  nnd  by 
menus  of  insanity'*  mysterious  power,  hurling 
him,  like  an  infant,  from  hor  way,  tho  mud 
woman  rushed  from  tho  house,  leaving  him 
proHlrato  behind  her  flying  foot,  and  then, 
then— ' 

1  What  then,  Henry  ?  What  new  horror  ? 
—speak ! 

'The  escaped  maniac  fled,  whilo  tho  now 
appalled  miser  followed  fast  upon  her  heels, 
straining  each  nerve  and  sinew  to  overtake  tho 
fugitive. 

1  On,  on !  tho  flying  form  had  gained 
Charleston  Bridge  ;  the  husband  pressed  for 
ward,  through  the  silent  city,  for  it  was  dark 
nigtt,  to  overtake  those  swiftly-speeding  steps 
— but  there  upon  tho  bridge  they  paused,  and 
tho  maniac  was  seen  to  spring  high  upon  a 
towering  buttress  of  tho  grand  old  pile  that 
spanned  the  river  beneath.  She  turned, — a 
cry  of  terrible  anticipation,  a  phrensied  shout 
to  desist,  broke  from  the  miser's  lips.  She 
turned  and  waved  her  hand  in  maniac  mock 
ery  ;  there  was  one  glimpse  of  floating  dra 
pery,  one  glimpse  of  a  leaping  form,  then  the 
vanishing  of  both,  and  then,  ah  then,  the  sul 
len  plash  of  waters  far  below  1 

4  At  that  very  moment,  at  the  very  instant 
of  the  fatal  leap,  the  panting  pursuer  gained 


KIT  CARSON. 


65 


the  parapet,  to  fine  it  vacant.  One  pause  of 
thrilling  horror,  one  convulsive  gasp  for  hi? 
breath,  and  he  dashed  from  the  buttress  and 
the  bridge,  and  descending  the  latter,  by  one 
rapid  succession  of  lion-like  leaps  he  gained 
the  river  side  below — a  dread,  a  horrid  scene 
before  him. 

'  There,  beneath  the  spreading  arch  of  old 
Charlestown  Bridge,  within  Us  dark  shadows, 
terror-stricken  he  saw  the  body  of  his  maniac 
wife, a  corpse  already 

4  He  was  not  the  sole  spectator,  for  on  the 
hushed  deck  of  an  adjoining  river  craft,  close 
in  shore,  not  five  yards  from  the  wave-drifting 
corpse,  the  light  from  his  lantern  in  its  wild 
glare  illuminating  the  ghastly  profile  of  the 
up-turned  face,  stood,  in  his  heavy'  seaman's 
night  cloak,  the  dark  figure  of  the  solitary 
watch  of  the  apchored  bark,  transfixed  by  so 
frightful  a  spectacle  in  the  very  attitude  of 
discovery  ;  while  over  the  startling  scene, 

[Sec  Engraving.] 

over  the  floating  corpse  of  the  drowned  wo- 
man,  over  the  horrified  and  convulsed  limbs 
of  the  suicide's  husband  upon  tho  shore,  the 
light  from  the  vessel  shone  dazzlingly  ;  it  was 
too  late — in  self-destruction  the  maniac  wife 
had  found  refuge  from  her  horrible  suffer 
ings ' 

*  No  more,  Henry!1  exclaimed   Ellen  ;  'I 
can  bear  no  more.' 

4  Little  more  is  known  1  Such  was  the  fute 
of  John  Vernon's  wife  ;  such  the  consequen 
ces  of  a  mercenary  marriage.  ^For  a  while, 
even  his  callous  heart  was  startled  from  its 
sordid  infatuation  ;  but  the  ruling  passion  wad 
not  even  thus  to  be  conquered,  nnd  he  is  the 
same  covetous  slave  of  avarice,  the  same  re 
lentless  miser  that  he  ever  was — yet,  fiend  as 
\\Q  appears,  I  religiously  believe  he's  as  much 
to.be  pitied  as  execrated  ;  it  is  a  species  of 
fearful  madness  that  rcsistlessly  impels  him 
onward  to  the  continual  gratification  of  the 
demon  of  cupidity — h  is  incurable.' 
'  Dreadful  vice,  dreadful  passion.  But  the 


children,  Henry— what  became  of  the  poor 
children  ?' 

4  Nothing  is  known  of  them.' 
' Nothing,  Henry?' 

'  Nothing !  But  it  is  probable  that  the  ill. 
fated  mother  left  them  in  a  place  of  security. 
This  is  inferred  from  her  long  and  determin 
ed  silence  with  regard  to  them.  The  positive 
fate  of  my  poor  cousins,  however,  is  left  in  as 
much  mystery  as  that  which  shrouds  a  bro 
ther's  in  rny  own  family.' 

4  How  !  have  you  a  brother  ?' 
'Could  my  father  have  withheld  the  know 
ledge  from  me,  T  should  never  Imvo  been 
aware  of  a  fact  which,  for  some  mysterious 
reasons,  he  has  ever  shown  the  most  inexpli 
cable  desire  to  keep  a  secret  from  me  and 
every  one  else,  PS  if  there  were  some  dreadful 
necessity  for  it.' 

The  young  girl  looked  with  anxious  inte 
rest  up  into  his  face,  as  she  said, — '  My  dear 
Henry,  this  is  news  to  your  Ellen.' 

'  It  is — it  was  so  to  your  brother  before 
you  ;  nor  should  I  now  have  spoken  of  it, 
but  that  circun^tances  I  need  not  mention, 
have  induced  my  father  to  place  in  me  at  last, 
that  confidence  he  has  so  long  and  so  myste 
riously  withhold  ;  though  with  the  singular 
condition  that  the  written  revelation  ho  has 
given  me  shall  not  be  opened  or  its  content 
examined,  till  I  shall  have  been  ten  days  i\t 
sea.  Nine  of  the  ten ' 

'  Have  already  elapsed,' suggested  his  com 
panion. 

'  You  are  right,  Ellen  ;  to-morrow  I  shall 
be  at  liberty  to  break  the  seal  of  the  packet 
entrusted  to  my  care.  But  comt?,  in  the  tx- 
citernent  of  this  night's  discovery,  we  have 
forgotten  the  lapse  of  time.  To  supper  now  ; 
on  the  morrow  1  will  seek  a  meeting  with  this 
uncle,  whom  I  unexpectedly  find  the  com 
panion  of  oui  voyage :  Heavens  !  that  his  nig 
gard  parsimony  should  have  voluntarily  de 
graded  my  father's  brother  to  the  rank  of  a 
steerage  passenger.  But  wo  must  hasten, 
dear  Ellen,  or  the  tea  table  will  be  deserted. 


THE    MISER, 

JOHN  VERNON, 


•••'  ".i't 

f;'-'  DISCOVERING  THE  SUICIDE  OF  HIS 


WIFE, 

WHO     I!  A  t»  ,     F,  O  II     Y  K  A  R  8 

Eluded  his  Pursuit. 


KIT  CARSON. 


r>7 


See!  the  passei.gers  are  already  returning 
to  the  deck.' 

Arm  in  arm  the  handsome  young  student 
and  the  'coming  boy  descended  to  the  cabin 
to  partnko  of  the  meal  from  which  their  unex 
pected  encounter  with  the  miser  had  BO  long 
detained  them. 

Scarcely  had  they  disappeared  below  the 
compariionway,  when,  slowly,  rising  up  from 
beneath  the  shadows  of  the  steerage  bulwarks, 
under  whose  dark  concealment  he  had  slunk 
at  the  outsot,  unnoticed,  the  ungainly  and 
time  warped  form  of  John  Vernon  hobbled 
again  into  the  light! , 

1  Ha  !  ha  !'  laughed  the  eaves-dropper. — • 
4  The  fools !  to  think  the  old  man  heard  them 
not! — hoard  all!  So  ho!  to-morrow  the 
packet  is  to  be  opened,  the  secret  revealed  T 
Of  that  packet  John  Vernon  must  gain  pos 
session  !  it  must  not,  it  shall  not  be  read  ! 
To-night  it  must  be  done,  if  at  all.  The 
miser  will  yet  outwit  them  !  outwit  them  all, 
he!  lie!1 


ra. 

The  Portrait  of  Kit  Carson —  The  Eve  of 
the  »  Truth  Day  out'— The  Theft  of  the 
Secret  Packet. 

4  What  deed  of  darkness  wild  is  this? — 
Ah  1  more,  1  fear,  of  woe  than  bliss.' 

SHELLEY. 

OMMENCED,  already, 
'was    the  night    of    the 
4  good  ship's  ninth  dny  at 
'.  sea.     The  short,  heavy 
swells  of  the  Gulf  stream 
t-  were   rocking  to  sleep, 
in   their   berths   below, 
the  host  of  passengers. 

Among  the  last  to  retire  to  their  respective 
state-rooms,  were  the  young  collegian  and 
his  supposed  stripling  friend,  our  heroine; 
but  at  length  even  the  latest  lingerer  had  de 
scended  to  his  rest,  and  the  dusky  forms  of 


the  helmsman  and  the  night-watch,  remained 
the  deck's  exclusive  tenants. 

But  to  a  late  hour  in  his  solitary  state-room 
sat  he  who  claims  the  rank  of  hero  in  this 
true  narrative.  Upon  the  table  before  him,  a 
scaled  and  wafered  parcel  lay.  It  was  the 
packet  regarded  with  such  natural  interest  by 
Henry  Vernon. 

Attentively  ho  had  been  viewing  it  for  some 
time,  and  more  than  once  had  he  taken  it  in 
his  hand  and  half  resolved  to  break  open  the 
seal. 

What  difference  could  it  possibly  make 
whether  he  was  made  acquainted,  one  day 
soorrer  or  later*,  with  its  contents  ?  repeatedly 
he  asked  himself,  as  he  recalled  with  impa 
tience  the  stipulation  that  ten  days  must  elapse 
subsequent  to  departure  ere  its  secrecy  was  to 
be  invaded. 

While  thus  he  gazed  upon  it  with  tantaliz 
ing  sensations,  the  packet  became  acciden 
tally  crushed  between  his  nervous  fingers,  and 
as  he  held  the  crumpled  paper  up  to  the  light, 
his  eye  was  involuntarily  caught  by  a  small 
portion  of  the  hidden  writing  under  the  parch 
ment  envelope  ;  but  before  his  glance  could 
take  in  its  meaning,  some  hard,  square' object 
within  seemed  to  dislodge  itself  from  its  pre 
vious  confinement  and  slipped  down  over  the 
hulf  legible  words,  covering  and  rendering 
them  unintelligible. 

In  trying  to  displace  tlrs  obstacle  to  their 
perusal,  Henry  slightly  shook  the  packet,  in 
doing  which  the  enclosure  in  quc&tion,  by  the 
force  of  its  own  gravity,  rent  the  envelope, 
and  fully  separating  itself,  fell  upon  the 
table. 

It  was  a  smnll  painting,  executed  evidently 
by  an  amateur's  hand,  but  skillfully  represent 
ing,  in  the  foreground,  a  man  on  horseback, 
in  the  dress  of  a  western  hunter,  equipped 
like  a  trapper  of  the  prairies ;  his  tall  and 
strongly  knit  frame  drawn  up,  erect  and  lithe 
as  the  pine  tree  of  his  own  forests;  his  broad, 
sun-burnt  face  developing  a  countenance,  on 
which  a  life  of  danger  and  hardship  had  set 


KIT  CARSON. 


its  weather-bcatan  seal,  and  placed  in  boldest 
relief  the  unerring  signs  of  a  nature  which 
for  reckless  daring  and  most  indomitable 
hardihood,  could  know  scarce  a  human  su 
perior. 

Far  in  tho  background  of  the  painting,  roll 
ed  the  waving  grass  of  a  boundless  pruirio  ; 
amid  iho  silent  wilderness  of  which,  towered 
the  noble  figure  of  the  hunter-horseman,  half 
Indian,  half  whiteman  in  appearance,  with 
rifle,  horse  and  dog  for  his  sole  companions, 
in  all  thnt  dreary  waste  ;  though  to  tho  right 
a  yelling  pack  of  wolves  were  seen  upon  his 
track,  and  on  his  left  the  thick,  bluck  smoke, 
in  curling  wreaths,  proclaimed  the  pruirio 
fire,  whilu  in  the  clear,  gray  eye  that  looked 
from  the  thrilling  picture  forth,  there  seemed 
to  glance  a  look  ot  proud  indifference  to  nil, 
and  the  conscious  confidence  of  ennobling 
self  reliance ! 

And  while,  in  enraptured  admiration  over 
that  spirit  stirring  picture  of  manly  daring, 
young  Vernon  gazed,  ho  saw,  with  a  thrill  or 
enthusiasm,  tho  title  tho  painting  bore, — 

KIT  CARSON, 
The  Pride  of  the  Prairie. 

And  still,  beneath  tho  inscription  that  gavo 
to  it  a  name,  he  saw  added,  <hese  words  ;  in 
his  father's  well  known  hand, — 

4  The  only  living  man  to  whom  Henry  Ver 
non  ranrvcr  look  for  thc.jinalkty  to  the  $e- 
ent  of  which  thin  packet  i»  a  e/ue.' 
The  painting  full  from  tho  astonished  youth's 
hands.  Spellbound  and  speechless  he  stood 
and  glared  on  it, 

1  Kit  Carson  1  Kit  Carson  !'  he  echoed,  be 
wildered  ;  '  that  i*  the  numo  of  the  famous 
hunter  and  adventurer  of  the  Great  Went, 
tho  hardy  explorer  of  tho  trackless  wilder- 
noHH,  tho  ilttriny  guide  mid  lotulcr  of  Frm- 
inont's  celebrated  expedition— Kit  Carson  ! 
(he  hero  of  prairie  and  forest,  tho  prince  of 
backwoodsmen ;  ho  wlu>*o  name  is  at  fami 
liar  a  word,  almost,  as  that  of  old  Rough  and 
eudy  himscU1,  und  an  fumuun  for  gullunt  ex  It 


ploita  in  the  far  west,  as  the  dauntless  Rogers 
who  led  the  Secret  Service  in  Sao  Juan  D'- 
UlloaT 

Yes,  it  is  tho  same  ;  and  yet,  what  con* 
nexion  can  there  be  between  my  father's  Be* 
cret  and  this  wild  rover  of  the  frontier  ?  By 
what  strange  vagaries  cm  Fate  have  mixed 
up  with  a  man  whose  h<  >  and  world  i»  tho 
pathless  wilderness1  the  destinies  of  a  Boston 
aristocrat.  Ha!  this  plot  teems  to  thicken 
fust ! 

*  This  man — does  my  strange  father  wish 
me  ever  to  meet  him  t  Once  at  my  voyage's 
t-nd,  1  am  likely  to  do  so,  lid  was  on  tho 
Pacific  coast,  if  I  mistake  not,  at  the  last  ac 
counts,  in  the  heart  of  tho  gold  region,  I  be* 
lievo;  nay,  it  is  even  said  that  this  sumo  Kit 
Carson  was  the  original  discoverer  of  thu 
principal  gold-placer;  if  so,  I  shall,  in  all  pro 
bability,  fall  in  with  him.  But  did  my  father 
anticipate  this  ?  was  this  his  motive  in  admit 
ting  n.e  a  party  to  this  secret,  that  in  the 
wilds  of  California  I  might  meet  tho  being 
whom  inexplicable  destiny  has  involved  incur 
family  affairs?  The  packet  will  explain— 
shall  I  now  open  it?* 

A  keen  cdgo  had  been  given  to  his  curi 
osity,  now  ut  its  highest,  and  he  felt  as  if  it 
must  be  gratified. 

It  seemed  to  him  a  foolish  scruple,  a  useless 
delay  of  twenty-four  hours,  but  ho  remem 
bered  the  imperative  injunction;  and  his  honor 
pledged  to  its  faithful  observance.  Such  had 
been  the  condition  of  the  secret's  revolution  ; 
tho  leant  he  could  do  was  to  requite  tho  con* 
fulcnco  reposed  in  him,  by  proving  himself 
worthy  of  it. 

Thus  ho  argued  and  thus  he  acted,  despite 
his  increased  curiosity, 

Undressing  himself,  he  extinguished  the 
light  und  cl'inhud  into  hi* narrow  berth  ;  after 
placing  in  his  bosom  the  important  packet; 
for  HO  constantly  had  il  been  tho  burden  of  his 
thought*,  and  so  watchful  was  he  of  its  so* 
curity,  that  ho  had,  from  the  first,  worn  it 
next  hi*  hunrt, 


KIT  CARSON. 


Previous  to  this,  however,  the  huntef  s  por 
trait  was  replaced  in  the  envelope,  and  the 
whole  secured  ns  before, 

Still,  in  his  sea-rocked  couch  ho  passed 
several  wakeful  hours.  He  felt  uneasy,  and 
the  wherefore  he  knew  not,  a  singular  inquie 
tude  had  corr.e  over  him,  and  sleeplessnes 
was,  of  course,  long  its  companion.  While 
as  the  restless  moments  wore  on,  they  did 
not  appear  to  bring  any  amelioration  of  his 
disturbed  state  of  mind. 

4  Something   seems  to  whisper  me,1  more 
thin  once  he  found  himself  half-unconscious- 
ly  muttering,  '  something  seems   to  whisper  j 
me,  to  read  that  mysterious  packet  this  very  j 
night !' 

And  he  hesitated,  apppearing  once  more  to  j 
debate  the  question  within  himself. 
.'Shall  I  rise  and  penetrate  its  contents  ?  A 
presentiment  of,  1  know  not   what,  draws  mo 
to   this  course — or,   shall    I    wait   patiently 
until  the  morrow  T     Shall  I  delay  it  till  then  ? 
what  could   possibly  occur  in  that  time  ? — 
Tush  1'  he  muttered,  '  pjcsontiments  are  but 
idle  things !     I  will    silence    this  folly,  and 
go  to  Bleep.1 

Nevcrtcclcss  <t  was  some  timo  before  he 
could  so  fur  control  his  own  mind. 

He  had  slept  perhaps  an  hour  or  more, 
when  a  shambling  sort  of  step  was  just  audible 
without,  and  an  unsteady  hand  seemed  to  try 
the  door  of  the  state  room.  It  had  been  left 
unlocked  by  Henry,  with  the  unsuspecting 
heedlcssncjs  of  youth,  and  there  was  no  ob 
stacle  to  its  opening. 

Slowly  and  carefully  the  latch  was  lifted  ; 
pitchy  darkness  had  taken  the  place  of  the 
extinguished  light,  and  \rernon  slumbered 
soundly,  and  no  heed  took  his  sleep-deafened 
ear  of  the  footstep 'outside  the  door,  the  care 
ful  finger  laid  upon  the  latch,  its  slow  and 
cautious  lifting,  and  t^en  the  yet  more  stealthy 
tread,  advancing  slowly  and  unsteadily,  as  il 
retarded  by  the  surrounding  gloom,  or  im 
peded  by  some  other  cause. 

Hardly,  howeTcr,  had  thut  hushed  foot  left 


the  threshold  a  half  yard  behind,  when  a  sud 
den  and  heavy  gust  of  wind    swept  down  tho   , 
companionway,and  retiring  agiin,  closed  w  th 
a  skarp  clatter  the  door  of  the  state-room,  in 
its  retreating  swoop. 

But  the  noise  did  not  break  the  slumbers 
of  the  unsuspicious  sleeper. 

There  was  the  pause  of  another  moment,  as 
if  to  ensure  certainty  ;  then  the  unknown  foot 
was  moved  again,  this  time  more  hurriedly. 
It  took  three  steps  forward — then  the  sound  of 
a  heavy  fall  followed. 

In  tHc  darkness  the  intruder  had  stumbled 
and  fallen  over  a  chair!  With  a  loud  crash 
it  fell  beneath  the  weight,  and  was  broken  on 
the  floor  of  the  state  room. 

The  slumberer,  suddenly  aroused,  started 
up ;  the  concussion  had  been  too  near,  too 
distinct,  not  to  awaken  him.'  A  mumbled 
curse  had  beeij,  the  moment  before,  half 
audible  ;  but  now,  all  was  silence  and  dark 
ness. 

Ila!  that  crash  !  it  must  have  been  one 
of  the  ship's  spars  snapping  in  a  passing  gust. 
And  ha  1  I  thought  I  heard  an  oath,  a  moan 
ing,  as  if  somo  one  wcro  in  pain — 'twas  but 
the  watch  on  deck — or  some  one  struck  by 
the  fulling  spar.1 

And  drowsily  the  rudely-awakened  Ver- 
non  sank  back  upon  his  pillow,  a  sleeper  once 
more. 

It  was  not  until  tho  strong  and  regular 
breathing  from  the  slumbcrcr's  berth  pro 
claimed  his  calm  relapse  info  eomnolence, 
that  there  was  a  distinct  sound  in  the  dark 
ness  of  the  state  room. 

The  next  noise  that  invaded  trfc  sudden  si 
lence,  was  like  the  rubbing  produced  by  a 
crawling  body.  It  ceased,  and  was  sccceeded 
by  a  seeming  scratching  against  the  wall — as 
instantly  itself  followed  by  a  sudden  flarh  of 
light  through  the  cabin,  that  lived  but  for  a 
moment,  and  then,  liko  the  bright  ephemera, 
died. 

It  was  the  lighting  of  a  match,  but  that 
phosphorescent  gleam,  as  it  shot  through  the 


60 


KIT  CARSON. 


gloom,  had  sufficed,  in  its  evanescent  flight, 
to  chow  to  tho  intruder  tho  position  of  the  re* 
cumbent  sleeper. 

And  now,  with  an  eager  haste,  those  foot 
steps  shuflled  to  tho  berth's  side,  and  the  In- 
cifcr'fl  last  lingering  flash  oflighi  shone  on  an 
upraised  arm  above  the  slumbering  student's 
brcnst !' 

There  wns  a  rustling,  quivering  sound  from 
the  berth,  differing  from  any  preceding  one; 
a  shock — a  cry — a  dull  full  and  then  a 
chuckling  laugh  ! 


Ellen's    Secret  Discovered — The    Perilous 
Passage  of  Cape  Horn. 

'  Now  comes  the  tug  of  war.' 

•The  hell  of  waters.1 

BYRON. 

REAKFAST  hour  ii 
at  hand— tho  long  night 
>.>•  l'n«  passed — and  Henry 
rViVcrnon  mukcs  not  his 
//nppearancc,  Conclud- 
jjpwf  ing  that  ho  had  over, 
slept  himself,  and  un 
willing  that  his  rest  should  he  disturbed,  the 
thoughtful  Ellen  descended  from  her  own 
cabin,  with  tho  curlier  risers,  to  the  morning 
meal. 

When  with  tho  rest  of  the  parly  she  return 
ed  to  tho  deck,  to  enjoy  the  invigorating  fresh- 
nets  nf  a  morning  promenade,  ohe  was  sur 
prised  to  find  that  her  lover  hud  not,  as  yet, 
joined  hiu  fellow  passengers. 

The  forenoon  pnssed  away,  an  impatient 
eye  looking  ruch  moment  for  tho  deferred  np> 
pearanco  of  tho  absentee,  Two  o'clock  came 
nt length;  with  it,  tho  dinner  hour— but  not 
Henry. 

Ellen  began  now  to  grow  anxious  and 
alarmed.  What  could  detain  him  thus.  She 


could  not  fly  to  his  state  room,  to  assure  her- 
self  of  his  safety,  her  woman's  delicacy  shiurik 
from  such  a  step  ;  yet  her  Henry,  might  be 
ill,  might  be  suffering  in  neglect,  while  icy 
propriety  forbade  her  to  haste  to  his  aid ; 
for  love  is  ever  apprehensive  of  it  scarce 
knows  what. 

In  this  dilemma  her  eye  suddenly  fell  upcn 
the  worthy  captain,  close  to  whom  she  stood. 
Her  glance  rested  upon  his  frank  and  gene* 
rous  countenance,  and  its  look  of  hearty 
benevolence  warmed  her  heart  afresh  toward 
him  ;  and  at  once  encouraged  her  to  boldly 
address  him,  with  her  earnest  request  that 
some  person  might  be  sent  to  Vernon's  cabin 
to  ascertain  the  cause  of  his  unusual  absence, 
expressing  the  most  lively  fears  lest  he  should 
be  unwell,  or  some  accident  had  happened  to 
him. 

Instead  of  at  once  complying  with  her  de» 
mand,  and,  as  she  expected,  instantly  acquU 
escing  in  tho  expediency  of  tho  suggestion, 
sho  observed,  with  uneasiness,  that  the  manly 
seiunun  stood  silently  and  gravely  surveying 
her. 

Her  quick  apprehension  caused  the  dis 
guised  girl,  with  an  instinctive  start,  to  turn 
upon  her  own  person  a  severe  self  scrutiny. 
Nothing  was  disarranged,  nothing  out  of  or 
der  in  her  boy's  dress,  and  yet  sno  saw  tho 
old  suitor  olsu  start,  and  a  smilo  camo  on  tho 
veteran's  lip, 

'  Como  hither,  boy/  he  at  length  siid  ;  ( I 
would  speak  with  you.' 

1  Nay,  sir,  not  now  ;  some  other  time,'  re 
joined  she,  quickly  ;  '  my  iriend  may  be  in 
distress,  while  1  * 

1  Then  fly  to  his  cabin,  my  boy,  and  satisfy 
yourself.1 

1 1 — I  dnre  not that  is,  I   cannot— no, 

no;  not  now  1* 

And  tho  color  rose  brightly  to  her  chcik 
and  deepened  on  her  fullering  lip. 

'  \Ylut!'  exclaimed  the  captain:  '  not  ^0 
to  his  assistance  ?  you  who  should  be  the  first 
to  fly  to  your  friend's  aid.' 


KIT  CARSON. 


01 


4 1— IJ Oh,  do  not  ask  mo,  sir  1  Indeed, 

indeed,  I  cannol.' 

1  How,  boy  !  and  do  you  call  yourself  a 
friend  ?'  asked  the  seaman,  with  apparent 
•ternnras. 

Ere  Ellen  could  frame  an  apology,  a  blast 
of  wind  came  suddenly  shrieking  through  the 
cordage  above  their  heads,  and  whistling 
down  upon  the  deck:  swept  more  than  one 
unwary  passenger's  hat  from  his  head  to  bear 
it  away  upon  a  distant  wave,  and  among  them 
was  the  light,  boyish  cap  worn  by  our  heroine 
-—and  as  it  floated  ofi'to  seaward,  fur  in  the 
vessel's  wake,  downward  fell,  in  glossy  masses 
a  shower  of  wavy  curls,  upon  the  shoulders  of 
the  supposed  stripling. 

'  Well,  boy,  follow  me,'  directed  the  cap- 
tain  ;  and  when  both  were  below,  the  captain 
turned  and  fixed  upon  her  a  peculiar  smile,  as 
full  of  shrewd  significance  as  were  his  good- 
humored  tones,  as  he  said,  to  the  girl's  great 
confusion, — 

'  Litt'e  stammerer  !  and  do  you  think  that 
that  blushing  cheek  and  faltering  tongue,  do 
not  betray  your  secret!  Listen  and  mark 
me  well,— boy  though  you  seem,  no  hoy  arc 
you !' 

Disconcerted  past  all  bourn's,  poor  Ellen 
was  speechless,  while-  the-  good  old  sailor 
went  on  to  say, — 

'  Poor  girl !  I  read  you  story.  That  young 
man,  whoso  constant  companion  you  have 
been,  is  your  lover,  whom  you  have  followed 
in  this  disguise.  Nuy  !  tremble  not,  nor  turn 
pale;  oM  Hiram  Alien  is  the  last  man  to  be 
tray  your  secret — and  a  pretty  little  secret  it 
is,  with  a  spice  of  genuine  romance  in  it. — 
But  fear  mo  not ;  I  have  discovered  you,  it 
is  true  ;  I  suspected,  from  the  first,  to  sweet 
a  little  craft  must  be  sailing  under  falao -colors 
— but  I  said  nothing ;  I  waited  for  proof  of 
my  suspicions — have  I  not  gained  it  ?' 

4  Proof  1'  echoed  the  bewildered  girl,  me 
chanically  ;  '  how  did  you  detect  roe — dis 
cover  all  this?' 

1  Easily,  young  lady;  your  confusion, youi 


hesitation,  your  reluctance  to  enter  his  cabin, 
these  girlish*  ringlets — how  very  plain  the 
signs !'  l 

'  You  will  not,  O  sir  1  you  surely  will  not 
disclose  what  you  have  learned !'  besought 
iho  imploring  pleader.  '  Think  'you,  noble 
sir,' she  added,  in  alarm,  '  anj  other,  save 
you,  suspects?' 

'  No,  nor  shall  they  ;  you  arc  safe  as  if  I, 
too,  knew  nothing  of  this.' 

And  then,  as  she  heard  him  murmur,  in  a 
thoughtful  way,  l  poor  dear  girl,  she  has  em 
barked  upon  a  hazardous  adventure  !'  she  felt 
as  she  looked  up  into  his  open,  benevolent 
countenance,  and  read  there  thn  native  no 
bility  of  the  veteran's  character,  she'  felt  that 
she  had  found  a  friend  in  the  manly  seaman, 
in  whom  see  could  as  safely  confide  as  in  a 
father. 

The  next  moment  ho  quickly  added, — 

'  But  for  the  present,  enough  of  this !  To 
the  safety  of  this  young  man  1  must  row  see. 
He  must  be  a  noble  fellow  to  have  won  such 
love  as  yours,  lady — or  'boy,'  rather,  aa  I 
must  stillcall  you.' 

1  O  hasten !  hasten  to  him  !  noble,  generous 
man !' 

'This,  then,  be  my  excuse  for  leaving  you, 
dear  l;\dy.' 

With  these  parting  words  the  gallant  sea 
man  hurried  from  her  side. 

Nor  was  ho  long  gone  upon  his  err&nd.— — 
Scarce  five  minutes  had  passed,  though  to  the 
suspense-filled  Ellon,  they  itemed  as  many 
hours,  ere  the  voice  of  the  skipper  was  heard 
calling,  from  decks,  to  his  mate  above, — 

4  Pass  the  word  for  Mr.  Davis.' 

'Ay,  ay,  sir  1  Forward  there! — pass  the 
word  for  the  surgeon.  In  your  cabin,  Capt. 
Allen?' 

*  No,  sir ;   in  state  room  No.  7.     Bid   him 
make  all  the  haste  possible.' 

*  Ay,  ay,  captain,* 

And  this  brief  professional  colloquy  be 
tween  skipper  and  first  officer  was  scarce 
finished  when  the  v.  rgion  h:mself  answer* 


KIT  CARSON. 


the  summons,  passing  the  terrified  girl  on  his 
woy. 

Ellen's  heart  was  in  her  month ;  that  de 
mand  for  the  physician,  what  did  it  not  fore 
bode  ? 

Tier  worst  fears,  all  too  soon,  were  realized. 
Ere  muny  moments  more  had  dragged  their 
heavy  weight,  the  surgeon  and  the  captnin, 
together,  reappeared,  bearing  between  them 
the  motionless  form  of  IJenry  Vernon,  dress 
ed,  but  with  the  blood  streaming  over  his 
clothes  and  dropping  to  the  floor  1 

With  a  shriek  nnd  a  gawp  like  the  broken 
cry  of  n  wounded  bird,  Ellen  Lincoln  sprang 
to  her  ill-fated  lover's  Hide ;  there,  for  one  in 
stant  she  blood  appalled  and  motionless  as  his 
own  lifeless  frame,  at  the  ghastly  sight  she 
behold. 

Hid  eyes  were  closed,  his  forehead  knit, 
his  hands  in  an  outstretched  attitude,  as  if 
grasping  at  something  beyond  his  reach.  The 
rich,  dark  locks  above  his  clear  and  youthful 
brow,  were  literally  saturated  with  gore,  as  if 
from  some  spring  beneath ;  while  down  that 
sunny  forohoad,  slowly  there  trickled,  from  a 
deep  cut  above  the  jotty  lashes,  a  crimson 
stream  of  blood,  filling  the  eyes  and  matting 
together  the  closed  lids,  which  seemed  with 
leaden  weight  held  'down;  and  from  sharp 
scratches  upon  the  cheeks,  scarlet  drops  were 
faintly  oozing — all  indicative  of  some  recent 
violanco. 

1  Captain  1'  uttered  the  surgeon,  in  a  hush* 
od  whisper. 

In  dilunce  no  less  mooning  the  old  seaman 
turned  to  him.  Mute  inquiry  was  in  every 
look. 

'Captain  Allen,1  said  the  doctor,  'this  is, I 
foar ' 

1  What,  0  what!  In  Heaven's  name,' 
wildly  ejaculated  Ellen,  breathlessly  inter- 
rupting  him, '  in  Heaven's  name  spoak  1  how 
came  ho  thus — what  terrible  accident  has  bo* 
fallen  him  ?' 

The  physician,  in  some  surprise,  looked 
from  Ellen  to  the  captain,  and  from  the  cop- 


tain  to  Ellen,  who  heeded  not  the  veteran*! 
warning  glance. 

The  latter  personage,  seeing  her  neglect  of 
caution,  hastened  to  speak  for  her,— 

•  This  young  boy  is  the  wounded  man's 
only   brother— you  observe   his  alarm — ex 
plain  to  him ' 

4  The  accident  P  again  she  interrupted, 
how  happened  it  ?' 

•I  know  not,1  replied  the  surgeon,  gravely. 
'  I  only  know,  from  Captain  Allen,  that  he 
discovered  thin  young  man  lying,  blooding 
and  senseless,  upon  the  floor  of  his  state  room, 
beneath  his  berth.* 

1  Yes,  'twas  there  I  found  him,  on  entering, 
with  theso  murks  of  violence  upon  his  person, 
but  to  what  inexplicable  accident,  Davis, 
could  this ' 

4  'Tis  tliut  which  puzzles  me,'  rejoined  the 
surgeon,  who  had  taken  the  head  of  the  bleec* 
ing  ycuth  upon  his  knee,  and  was  attentively 
examining  its  injuries. 

4  This  is  a  bharp  cut  upon  'ho  forehead, 
and  seems  to  bleed  profusely,'  In  presently 
observed  :  •  it  is  merely  a  flesh-wound,  how 
ever,  and  not  at  all  serious.  It  must  have  been 
made,  I  think,  in  fulling  from  the  berth  above 
to  the  the  floor,  by  some  sharp  angle  ;  but 
that  fall  itself,'  he  added,  deliberatingly, 
4  how  is  that  to  be  accounted  for  ?'  and  he 
paused  again. 

4  Stop  !'  ho  continued,  abruptly  ; '  how  this 
hair  is  matted  together  and  clotted  with  gore, 
just  above  the  brow.  The  blood  from  that  cut 
over  the  oycH  could  not  have  trickled  upward, 
thus — there  must|be  somu  other  and  larger 
wound  Ah  1  look  at  this  dreadful  contusion 
on  the  skull !' 

And  wilh  difficulty  parting  the  tangled  curls 
aside  from  the  crown  of  the  head,  ho  laid 
open  to  view  a  ghastly  gash,  that  called 
from  the  gazing  Ellen  a  shudder  of  wild  af* 
fr.ght. 

•  And  this,'  slowly  asked   Capt.  Allen.  •  is 
this  a  grave  injury  7* 

'  It  is— the  skull,  if  I  mistake  not,  is  frac 
tured.' 


KIT  CARSON. 


63 


'  Fractured  !'  reiterated  Ellen,  in  terror  at 
the  word. 

'  Fractured,!  fear  me,'  went  on  the  doctor, 
with  great  gravity  ;  «  and  evidently  by  some 
violent  blow ;  the  appearance  of  the  wound 
shows  clearly  that  it  must  have  been  of  a 
blunt  nature,  also.  But  how  was  it  occasion 
ed?  that  is  the  question.  Ila  !  I  can  imagme 
one  method  in  which  it  could  hare  originated. 
I  may  be  a  liltle  mistaken,  but,  at  all  events, 
come  once  more  fo  the  state  room,  and  we  may 
throw  some  light  upon  the  matter.  Captain, 
it  will,  perhaps,  be  better  to  return  with  the 
unfortunate  young  gentleman,  also,  to  his 
state  room.' 

'  As  you  think  proper,  Mr.  Davis,'  replied 
tha  captain. 

Once  more  taking  up  the  insensible  student, 
followed  by  Ellen,  who  forgot  all  scruples  in 
this  aggravation  of  her  alarm,  they  retraced 
their  st*ps. 

The  floor  of  the  state  room,  directly  below 
the  berth,  was  one  pool  of  blood.  Henry's 
berth  was  one  of  a  tier  of  three,  placed  one 
above  another,  and  in  one  of  the  others  the 
bleeding  Vernon  was  laid;  while  the  doctor 
advanced  to  that  which  had  been  occupied  by 
the  young  man,  and  proceeded  narrowly  to 
inspect  its  interior. 

Almost  immediately  a  slight  ejaculation 
broke  from  the  surgeon,  who  at  once  directed 
the  attention  of  his  two  companions  to  the 
superincumbent  ceiling  of  the  small,  confined 
bertl1,  at  the  top  of  which  was  seen  a  large 
spot  that,  on  a  closer  examination  proved  to 
be  clotted  gore  intermixed  with  human  hair. 
A  comparison  with  the  gash  in  Vernon's 
head,  made  it  to  tally  with  the  dimensions  of 
the  former. 

*  It  is  clear,'  said  the  surgeon,  with  a  sort 
of  professional  satisfaction  that  nearly  drove 
Ellen  deranged  outright,  '  I  see  now — the 
patient  must  have  attempted  to  leap  suddenly 
from  the  berth,  forgetful  of  the  nature  of  the 
place,  and  in  the  incautious  act,  his  head 
struck  with  the  greatest  violence  against  the 


heavy  wood-work,  scarce  two  feet  above  him 
inflicting  this  terrible  wound  upon  the  unpro- 
teclcd  skull ;  the  shock  of  which,  no  doubt  it 
was,  that  caused  him  to  be  precipitated  from 
the  berth.' 

Ellen  groaned. 

1  Are  you  certain  it  is  a  (racture,  doctor  ?' 
demanded  the  captain. 

'  I  am  confident  of  it ;  yet  the  sku'l  is  only 
slightly  penetrated.' 

•  What  will  be  the   consequence  ?' 
'  Congestion  of  the  brain.' 

'  And  the  finale  to  that  is ' 

*  Death  ! — almost  invariably.' 

'  O  God  !  O  God  !'  shrieked  Ellen. 
The  captain  interposed, — 

'  Hold,  doctor !  there  is  surely  some  hope  r 
The  fracture,  you  say,  is  slight ;  it  is  not  a/« 
ways  fatal ;  he  may  recover  ?'  urged  he,  with 
emphasis. 

4  There  is  hope — but  it  is  very  slender,' 
rejoined  the  cautious  physician,  with  medical 
precision.  '  Congestion  of  the  brain  is  a  dan 
gerous  disease  ;  for  weeks  his  life  will  hang 
upon  a  thread.' 

1  Hope,  hope,  blessed  hope  1  at  least  there 
i?  one  cheering  ray  of  consolation  I'  murmur 
ed  Ellen,  with  heart-breathed  thankfulness  on 
her  lips ;  ana  over  the  bod)  of  her  wounded, 
lover  she  knelt  in  silent  prayer  to  the  Hea 
ven  that  had  cast  down  and  could  raise  up 
again. 

It  was  as  the  experienced  surgeon  had  pre- 
Jicted.  The  prophccied  symptoms,  in  their 
natural  order,  succeeded  to  each  other.  From 
'.he  long  swoon  into  which  the  catastrophe 
had  plunged  him,  the  dreaded  brain  fever  at 
oftce  ensued,  and  for  full  a  month,  Henry 
Vernon  kay  in  his  berth,  the  victim  of  de 
lirium. 

Of  course  the  generous-hearted  captain 
had  provided  him  with  suitable  attendants ; 
and  now  that  he  was  an  invalid,  Ellen  could, 
with  propriety,  daily  visit  him,  not  feel  maid- 
enly  delicacy  wounded,  even  in  the  presence 


64 


KIT  CARSON. 


of  the  good  old  sailor,  who  alone,  boside, 
was  in  the  secret  of  her  true  character. 

Though  the  mind  of  Vernon  wandered  day 
and  night,  with  scarce  a  lucid  interval,  yet 
Ellen'*  hand  and  Ellen's  tones  had  a  magic 
influence  in  )hem,  to  soothe  and  calm  him 
oven  in  his  moments  of  wildest  delirium. — 
Ilopo,  angelic  hope,  cheorod  In*  through  nil, 
even  white  life  nnd  doalh  hung  wnvcring  in 
tho  balance  of  fate's  fickle  scales. 

This,  fur  full  a  month,  wo  hnve  said,  con* 
tinucd.  The  violence  of  the  fever  had,  by 
this  time,  well  nigh  exhausted  both  itself  and 
its  prey,  arid  now  the  crisis  approached. — 
Hope  and  four,  in  one  loving  watcher's  breast 
by  turns  preponderated,  asthc  thrilling  ordeal 
drew  close  at  hand  ;  and  not  the  less  so  that 
it  was  dostinod  to  bo  coupled  with  another  and 
a  far  different  ordeal,  through  which  the  gal- 
huu  hhip  and  all  on  board  were  about  to 
pass, 

Comparatively  fair  winds  and  calm  seas 
had  thus  far  favored  tho  voyngo  of  our  ad. 
venturers,  They  had  encountered  no  heavy 
gales  to  endanger  their  safety,  no  baffling 
winds  to  delay  their  progress.  But  now  they 
had  been  above  a  month  at  sea,  and  wero  Op. 
preaching  the  southern  extremilv  of  South 
.  America. 

The  shores  of  Patagonia  were  to  be  passed, 
the  Stuits  of  Magellan  left  behind,  the  coast 
of  the  Capo  yet  to  bo  safely  rounded.  The 
first  two  of  these  important  preliminaries 
were  the  work  of  but  a  few  days  more,— tho 
lost  eventful  undertaking  came,  fully  as  soon 
as  they  found  themselves  prepared  for  that 
most  arduous  effort  ot  the  mariner. 

And  at  lerigrh  Cape  Horn  lootnod  up  be 
fore  them — the  most  perilous  of  passages,  the 
stormiest  of  capes — and  as  they  ncared  tho 
mighty  barrier  which  separates  two  oceans, 
that  seem  ever  struggling  for  tho  mastery, 
tho  tempests  that  are  over  born  of  the  Allan- 
tic's  and  Pacific's  union,  now  burst  on  them 
in  all  their  terrific  majesty,  in  all  their  awful 
grandeur. 


It  was  night— night  wild  and  stormy,  when 

the  good  ship  S sought  to  pass  the  ocean- 

rubicon> .  The  splendid  arch  of  Heaven  was 
dark  with  monster  clouds,  but  bright  with  the 
lurid  lightning  that  led  the  thunderbolts,  One 
wild,  tumultuous  cauldron  of  boiling,  hissing 
waters,  win  the  billowy  wilderness.  It  was 
no  every. day  hackneyed  sight  of  a  sea  storm 
no  mere  convulsion  of  tho  elements  on  tho 
broad  deup  was  thin  ;  it  wan  tho  muiden  moot 
ing,  the  impetuous  encounter,  the  dread  con* 
fliut  of  two  mighty  oceans  upon  tho  common 
battle-ground  of  old  Capo  Horn. 

Captain  Allen  well  know  tho  exigency  for 
which  ho  must  prepare  himself;  he  was  an 
old  seaman  and  a  gallant  one  ;  and  five  times, 
successively,  in  his  adventurous  sailor's  lift-, 
had  he  macJo  that  daring  passage.  Ho  up- 
preached  it  now  with  peculiar  emotions,  for 
tho  very  lat>t  occasion  on  which  he  had 
'rounded  tho  capo,'  his  vessel,  with  all  on 
board,  hud  narrowly  escaped  shipwreck  and 
destruction  ! 

But  he  was  now  in  command  of  a  larger 
and  b'-tter  ship,  purchased  expressly  for  the 
California  adventure,  and  ho  trusted  to  her 
good  qualities,  to  a  sailor's  skill  and  a  watch* 
ful  Providence,  to  guard  him  through  the 
perils  which  ho  know  it  was  in  vain  to  hope 
to  escape  ultog  «her;  and  when,  finally,  he 
came  now  to  encounter  the  gale's  fuM  violence 
it  was  necessary  to  crowd  on  the  ship  every 
inch  of  canvass  she  could  bear  ;  for  there  on 
her  Ire-bow  lay  » tho  Horn,'  the  most  for 
midable  of  Ico  shores,  and  nea-rooin  must  be 
gained,  if  she  sought  not  certain  shipwreck. 
With  all  the  sail  set  that  in  prudence  could 
b«  spread,  now  strove  thq  noble  craft  and 
gallant  crew  to  '  claw  off  shore.' 

Broad  was  the  oiling  that  must  bo  won  t — 
and  though,  as  they  came  each  moment  more 
and  more  completely  under  tho  influence  of 
tho  storm-roused  winds,  the  straining  of  the 
gale  threatened  to  shiver  the  groaning  sails  ; 
yet  still  that  press  of  canvass  was  she  com 
pelled  to  carry,  not  a  rag  dared  ihey  take  in, 


KIT  CARSON. 


or  run    the   fearful     hazard   of    driving   on 
shore ! 

With  quivering  yards,  with  creaking  cnn- 
*ass,  and  cordage  shrieking,  but  boldly, 
proudly,  bravely,  amid  the  deluges  of  flash- 
ing  fo;un  and  the  chaos  of  breaking  seas,  shot 

the  S out  to  sea. 

Now  buried  in  the  abyss-like  trough  of  the 
tumultuous  sea,  now  lifted  on  the  towering 
summit  of  some  mountain  of  -he  main  ;  one 
moment  all  was  one  black  wilderness  of  toss- 
ing  waters,  one  boundless  succession  of  yawn 
ing  pits— the  next,  as  if  unto  the  very  hea 
vens  lifted,  from  the  monster  wave-tops  were 
to  be  seen  ihe  frowning  cliffs,  the  inhospitable 
promontory,  with  its  adamantine  ivall  nnd 
bleak,  wild  head  upraised,  in  defiance  to  old 
ocean's  mi<{ht. 

The  violent  heavings  and  pitchings  of  the 
ship,  tho  howling  winds  and  the  stunning 
thunder  roverberutious^ull  told,  even  to  those 
Mow,  tho  arrival  of  tho  critical  hour  of  tho 
toyngo. 

Anxious  to  ascertain  how  great  the  peril, 
Ellen  Lincoln  had  for  a  moment  left  tho  side 
of  her  delirious  Henry,  and  relaxing  fora 
moment  love's  sleepless  vigil,  she  came  upon 
deck  to  end  her  suspense,  for  it  had  now  be 
come  intolerable. 

Scarcely  hid  she  joined  the  group  on  deck, 
to  become,  like  them,  on  awe-struck  beholder 
of  the  terrific  spectacle,  ere  sin  heard  the 
captain's  order — 

'  Batten  down  the  hatches— batten  them 
down  for  your  lives  !  Stand  fist !— look  out 
for  that  sea!' 

And  before  the  startling  command  could 
be  more  than  half  executed,  a  monster  wave 
came  rolling  in  from  seaward,  and  made  a 
clean  breach  fore  and  aft,  deluging  the  decks, 
from  the  forecastle  to  the  binnacle  ;  while,  at 
the  same  instant,  the  sails  suddenly  shivered 
and  Hupped,  like  the  mangroves  of  the  south, 
in  the  tropic  gales;  and  sternly  from  the 
captain's  lips  rang  out  the  shout, — 

'  Up  with  the  helm  !—  by  Heavens  the  wind 
has  headed  us  1' 


'  We  are  directly  off  the  Horn,  sir/  said  the 
vo.ce  of  the  mate,  in  a  tone  of  forced  calm- 
ness. 

4  We  are  !— now  comes  the  crisis  I  Quarter 
master,  how  stand-  the  compass  7' 

'  She  has  fallen  off  a  point  and  a  half,  sir,' 
replied  the  quarter-master,  from  tho'  bin- 
naclc. 

'  The  ship  has  broken  off,  Mr.  Johnson !' 
echoed  the  captain  to  his  mate,  his  voice  at  a 
thrilling  pitch. 

1  She  must  be  brought  up  to  the  wind  again 
Capt.  Allen.1 

1  She  must— not  an  instant  is  to  be  lost 

all  hands!  wear  ship!' 

'  She  wears !'  shouted  the  mate  ;  •  sec  how 
gallantly  she  comes  up  to  it !' 

The  ship  came  round  on  the  other  tack, 
nnd  her  tails  filling,  she  stood  on,  with  the 
land  right  on  her  Ice  bows, 

1  Now  for  it,  Mr.  Johnson  !'  cried  tho  cap- 
tain.  '  Wo  must  hug  the  land  !  God  help  us 
to  weather  the  Cape,  and  God  grant  we  have 
offing  enough  !' 

There  was  a  pause— not  in  the  wild  war- 
fare  of  the  elements,  not  in  the  onward  rush 
of  the  driving  ship,  but  in  the  voices  of  men. 
Suddenly  the  lieutenant  said, — 

'  Captain  Allen,  we  must  be  farther  to  wind 
ward  or  we  shall  never  weather  it.' 

'  I  sec  it,  Mr.  Johnson  f  we  must  have  more 
sail  on  the  ship.' 

4  But  cbn  she  bear  it,  sir  ?' 

'  Bear  it  she  must.  I  shall  put  the  main- 
sail  on  her.' 

4  The  mainsail  1  Captain  Allen  ?  Impos, 
siblel' 

•  It  must  bo  done,  sir,'  replied  the  captain 
to  his  subordinate's  tones  of  remonstrance  j 
4  aye,  even  if  it  takes  tho  very  sails  out  of  th« 
bolt-ropes.' 

4  The  mast  will  never  stand  it,  I  /car,  sir! 
Would  that  we  had  gone,  instead,  by  w»y  of 
the  Straits!' 

1  This  is  not  the  first,  time,  Mr.  Johnson, 
that  I  hare  rounded  the  Horn  ;  I  take  all  the 


66 


KIT  CARSON. 


responsibility.  It  is  our  only  chance — how's 
her  head  now,  helmsman?' 

4  Nor'-west  by  west,*  sung  out  the  man  at 
the  wheel. 

Captain  Allen,  cool  and  composed,  but 
firm  and  resolved,  turned  to  his  officer, calm 
ly  saying,— 

4  Come  with  me  to  the  helm,  Johnson — we 
must  both  lend  a  hand  aft  1* 

Thus  speaking,  the  captain  and  first  lieu 
tenant  took  the  helmsman's  place,  and  the 
order  was  instantly  passed  to  set  the  main 
sail. 

It  was  dono — not  without  many  fears  and 
misgivings  on  all  sides.  Terrible  was  the 
struggle  that  then  ensued — terrific  the  crisis, 
It  was  now  that  the  ship  was  called  upon  to 
stem  the  full  fury  of  the  elements  ;  the  men 
and  the  few  passengers  on  deck  wore  forced 
in  cling  to  the  rigging,  the  gun-carriages  and 
bulwarks,  as  sea  after  sen  dashed  over  them, 
causing  the  ship  to  groan  and  quiver  in  every 
plank ;  while  on,  onward  she  dashed,  now 
rapidly  nearing  the  grand  point  which  she 
must  pass. 

Time  lagged  not — toward  the  black  and 
towering  cliff,  with  its  giant  summit  bathed  in 
misty  spray,  with  the  howling  «urf  and  the 
roaring  breakers  at  its  foot,  on  the  imperilled 
vessel  spsd,  straining  to  pass  that  jutting  pro- 
montory,  until  thovery  foam  from  tho  wave- 
lashed  rocks,  in  sprinkles  fell  upon  the  decks 
and  the  ship  careened  over,  under  the  fearful 
pressure,  no  that  her  lee  channels  wero  under 
water,  Tho  struggling  ship  was  within  three 
cables-length  of  tho  rock  I 

It  was  a  dreadful  moment! — on,  as  if  to  her 
very  doom  she  drove;  tho  cliff  ncemed  to 
tower  above  the  very  forecastle,  her  main- 
yard-arm  dipped  till  it  appeared  to  touch  tho 
rock. 

A  yell  of  despair  broke  from  passengers 
and  crew— a  flying  blast  struck  the  vessel 
foul,  floating  in  an  instant  the  lee  gangway 
and  lee  side  of  the  quarter-deck — a  report 
liko  a  cannon's  thunder-roar  wns  heard,  nnd 


all  shut  their  eyei  to  the  doom  each  felt 

was  inevitable ! 


as. 

The  Ocean  Escape — The  Packet^  Loss— 
The  Dangerous  Rclapte — The  Plotter" » 
Retribution — The  Arrival  at  San  /Van- 
cisco. 

'  Ho,  ho,  ho  !  our  goal  is  gained  ! 
Successfully  each  nerve  we've  strained.' 

SUDDEN  aurge  was 
felt — to  many  a  d«»- 
gjf  tp«irin|  heart  it  seem- 
ed  like  the  final  plunge 
^  to  perdition! — a  vio 
lent  forging  of  tho  ship 
'ahead— a  moment  pass- 
ed;  and  then,  even  the  most  fearful  ventured 
one  look  more,  where -they  had  thought  to 
have  taken  their  last,  already. 

What  n  sight  wns  there! — the  ship  was  on 
hnr  bonm-md*,  her  mainmast  had  gone  by  the 
board  ;  from  bowsprit  to  taffruit,  tho  shattered 
craft  trembled  and  shook — but  the  dreaded 
headland  lay  no.  longer  on  tho  lee-bow,  but 
loomed  up  behind  on  tho  weather  quarter ! 

Tho  outermost  point  of  the  Cape  had  been 
passed, 

The  gallant  captain  sprang  from  the  helm 
into  tho  mizen-rigging,  and  waved  his  cap: 
1  Three  cheers,  three  cheers,  boys,  with  a 
will !  we've  weathered  Cape  Horn  !' 

•  Hurrah  !  hurrah  !  we  have  doubled  the 
Horn!'  echoed  back  passengora  and  ctew, as 
gallantly,  though  with  a  mighty  effort,  tho 
ship,  righting,  answered  her  helm,  nnd  threw 
off  th«  heavy  volume  of  water  that  pressed 
her  down. 

And  now  the  stout  vessel,  once  more  with 
a  clear  course,  before  tho  wind,  dragged  se 
curely  but  sluggishly  along;  her  active  men 
busy  in  clearing  awuy  the  wreck  of  the  main- 
mast,  which,  with  all  its  hamper,  had  gone 
over  the  side,  and  wns  cut  away,  as  a  dozen 
ready  nxes  attacked  the  quivering  stump. 


KIT  CARSON. 


67 


Her  sails  were  torn  into  ribbons  in  the  bolt- 
ropes — the  principal    mast  lost ;  the  damage 

to  the  S was  very  greut.     But  little  cnred 

the  brave  captain  now  for  this — he  knew  that 
he  could  put  into  the  first  port  for  repairs  ;  the 
danger  had  been  escaped,  the  grand  peril 
eluded — and  there,  on  his  weather-beam,  far 
away  to  windward,  lay  the  giant  cliffs,  no 
longer  to  be  dreaded;  for  now  he  was  in  an 
other  ocean — the  broad  Atlantic  behind  him, 
and  beneath,  around,  before,  the  still  mightier 
Pacific  lay  outspread !  while  back  upon  the 
siortny  precipices,  b:\ck  upon  the  raging 'hell 
of  waters,'  back  upon  that  stupendous  pano 
rama  of  rocky  grandeur,  the  trysting  place  of 
the  giant  sister-seas,  gazed,  enthralled,  the 
awe-struck  girl  upon  that  deck — the  solitary 
female,  who,  like  so  many  ruder  spirits,  had 
that  night  lived  to  pass,  with  them  that  haz 
ardous  ordeal 

1  And  this   is  Cape  Horn — the  far-famed 
king  of  Capes  ?' 

The  captain,  near  whom  the  speaker,  Ellen, 
stood,  turned  at  her  involuntary  outbreak  of 
awe-inspiring  admiration:  while,  with  that 
solemn  tone  so  habitual  with  the  sailor,  when 
speaking  of  \fre  wonders  of  the  deep,  ho 
said, — 

'  Ay,  boy,  ay  !     Henceforth  from  this  nigl 
boast,  that  you  have  safely  passed  Old  Horn 
— the  stormiest  cape  in  God's  created  world. 
1  Captain  Allen,'  said  a  voice,   at   the   las 
speaker's  elbow. 

'  Ha,   Johnson  !  you   look  troubled — wha 
now?' 

*  Shall  I  send  below  for  the  surgeon,  sir 

The  wreck  of  the  mainmast ' 

The  captain  started.     '  What  were  any  o 
the  men  wounded  ?' 

4  Yea,  sir!  two   in   the  ship's   waist,  an 
several  of  the  steerage  passengers  hare   been 
dangerously  hurt.' 

4  Ha !  how  did  this  occur  ?* 
*  The  main-boom  was   carried  away  wit 
the  mast,  and  dragged  over  to  leeward  wit 
the  wreck.' 


Place  them  immediately  under  the  doctor's 
are,  Mr.  Johnson,' replied  the  captain,  and 
sthe  order  was  passed  by  his  second  in  com 
mand,  several    men   appeared,    bearing   the 
oundcd  in  their  arms. 

'  There  is  one  old  man,  Capt.  Allen,'  said 
ohnson,as  he  pointed  to  one  of  the  bleeding 
ufierers,  4  who  is  severely  injured,  I  fear, — 
is  right  leg  is  broken.  1  observed  him  re- 
>eatedly,  during  the  weathering  of  the  Cape. 

seemed  to  be  very    much  terrified,  and 
was  on  his  knees  nearly  all  the  time,  raving 
r  his  gold,  and  death,    and   drowning,  in   a 
manner  so  ludicrous  as  well  nigh  to  move  my 
merriment,  in  spite  of  all    that  was  at  stake 
round  us.     The  danger  seemed  to  have  com- 
>lelely  frightened  the  old  man  out  of  his  wits, 
o  judge  by  his   ravings — see  that  shattered 
imbof  his! — it  will  lay  him  up  for  many  a 
day !'       ' 

4  The  miser — the  miser !  it  is  my  Henry's 
mcle !'  was  the  breathless  exclamation  of 
Ellen  as  she  recognised,  at  a  glance,  the  re 
pulsive  person  of  the  old  man,  who  was  car 
ried,  moaning  and  groaning,  to  the  surgeon's 
charge  below. 

The  hatches  had,  of  course,  already  been 
re-opened  ;  and  heedless  of  n"  pise,  in  the 
sudden  excitement  of  a  discovery  so  nearly 
concerning  her  invalid  lover,  she  hastened  to 
his  cabin. 

The  crisis  of  his  disease  had  taken  place 
two  days  before,  and  Vcrnon  had  been  pro 
nounced,  by  the  medical  attendant,  out  of  all 
danger,  unless  a  relapse  should  unfortunately 
chance  to  occur. 

Still,  Ellen  had  left  him  delirious,  though 
that  delirium  had  greatly  abated  in  malignity, 
and  great  was  her  surprise,  on  returning  to  the 
invalid's  state-room,  to  find  her  poor  patient 
dressed  and  seated  at  the  table. 

She  went  up  to  him,  her  entrance  unpcr- 
ccived  ;  his  head  and  pallid  face  were  resting 
on  his  hand,  and  an  expression  of  deep,  but 
vague  thought,  had  usurped  the  wildness  of 
delirium  in  his  eye. 


68 


KIT  CARSON. 


•  Henry  !' 

lie  sturtcd,  lookrd  earnestly  at  her,  ottered 
a  feeble  cry,  r.,id  would  have  staggered  up  to 
clasp  her  in  his  arms  but  sht  prevented  him, 
and  throwing  her  own  tightly  around  him, 
prcsscJ  her  warm,  red  mouth  to  his  bloodless 
lips. 

'  Ellen,  where  am  1  ?  whut  has  occurred  ?' 
he  stammered,  in  if  in  a  dream.  • 

4  You  have  been  ill — delirious  for  weeks,1 
•he  softly  murmured. 

» 111  I—delirious?  Ah !  1  remember  now, 

I  think that  night—  in  my  st.ite  room — 

that  sirango  nrm  in  my  berth — I — I  have  a 

dim  recollection  of— of O  God  !  where  is 

my  mind  ? '  . 

The  dear  girl  by  his  side  Buffered  him  to 
pause  in  earnest  meditation  ;  nor  did  she  in 
terrupt  the  current  of  his  memory,  for  she 
knew  that  it  was  best  to  leave  it  to  dcvclopc 
itself  naturally.  And  while  she  thus  had  lei 
sure  for  a  moment's  self-reflection,  it  readily 
occurrrd  to  hrr  that  it  was  tho  shock  of  the 
last  night's  hardy  venture,  the  wild  conQict 
of  the  elements  around,  which  had  operated 
to  break  the  delirium  of  the  invalid,  and  re 
store  htm  suddenly  to  reason,  will  tho  arti 
ficial  enerjzy  it  supplied.  She  well  knew  the 
common  efltct  of  a  sudden  and  violent  shock 
on  a  fever ;  she  saw  that  he  had  been  wakened 
by  it  to  rationality,  and  rising  from  the  berth, 
of  which  he  had  so  long  been  the  tenant,  had 
dressed  himselfand-dreamily  sat  down  to  col 
lect  his  own  wandering  thoughts. 

•My  uncle 'he  paid,  at  length,  and 

•topped,  showing  that  which  was  uppermost 
in  his  mind. 

'I  have  intelligence  to  impart,  relative  to 
him,  dearest,  that  may  shock  yi-u.  We  have 
doubled  Cape  Horn, Henry,  this  very  nipht; 
but  your  uncle,  your  aped  uncle,  nas  been 
dreadfully  injured  in  the  storm ;  he  is  in  fear- 
ful  misery — he  has  broken  a  limb!  Enemy 
as  he  has  ever  been  to  you,  I  feel  that  your 
generous  heart,  dear  Henry  ,will  not  rejoice  at 
his  misfortune.' 


1  Enemy  as  he  is  to  me,   indeed,  indeed, 

Ellen hark  !  hark  !'  ho   repented,  with  • 

wild  flash  of  recollection ;  'to  him  it  was  I 
owe  all  this!  O  God!  I  remember  it  all 
now, — he  it  was  who  entered  my  cabin  that 
fearful  night,  he  it  was  who  stood  over  me  In 
my  brrtli,  AM  the  hand  that  I  awoke  to  firv* 
groping  at  my  henrt,  his  arm  it  was  that  hung 
in  the  darkness  over  me,  when  I  sought  to 
spring  from  my  pillow,  and  tlic  next  moment 
knew  no  more.* 

'  Merciful  Providence,  Henry  !  did  your 
uncle  seek  to  assassinate  you  ?  could  lie  have 
been,  in  design,  a  murderer!' 

1  What  else,  Ellen,  what  else  could  his  ob 
ject  have  been  ?  Was  he  not  pocking  for  'he 
lieait,  in  which  to  plant  the  knife,  to  make  the 
blow  more  sure  ?  What  other  purpose  could 

he  have  had— and  yet '    He  struck  his 

hand  against  his  forehead,  remaning  me  mo 
ment  silent.  *IIa!  accursed  suspicion  — 
O  worse  than  death,  even.  The  picket  !— 
whore  is  the  packr-t  ?  God  of  Heaven  !  my 
nnclr  has  stulcn  thr  stcrct  parkct  /' 

With  the  frantically  gasped  word  on  his 
lips,  he  fell  senseless  into  Ellen's  arm*,  to 
awaken  to  delirium  once  more.  A  rdaptt 
had  taken  place  I 

A  rcl.ipsc  which  the  poor  girl  knrw  !o  be 
in  almost  every  case  fatal  ;  and  Ellen,  who 
had  bravely  borne  up  so  lonjr,  now  became 
nigh  distracted— of  Vcruon's  life  there  was 
now  scarca  a  chance. 

But  swiftly,  gallantly,  meanwhile  the  good 
ship  which  bore  them  both,  went  on  towards 
its  destination. 

Capt.  Allen  had  put  into  one  of  the  Pacific 
ports  for  repairs,  and  then  proceeded  on  his 
voyage.  Once  only  ho  paused,  subsequent- 
ly,  and  this  was  at  Panama,  and  from  the* 

Isthmus  the  S stood  on  for  the  harbor  of 

San  Francisco. 

O  how  eagerly  did  those  assembled-hun- 
drcdspant  for  the  hour  of  their  voyage's  end, 
but  there  were  suffering  bodies  as  well  as 
anxious  minds  in  the  swift-bounding  ship,  yet 


KIT  CARSON. 


neither  the  relapsed  invalid  in  his  delirium, 
nor  the  wounded  miser,  in  his  physical  pain, 
endured,  in  reality,  greater  torture  than  was 
inflicted  by  suspense  and  impatient  avarice  on 
those  who  were,  both  corporeally  and  mental 
ly,  in  sound  health. 

Six  weeks  had  dragged  on,  marked  only, 
seemingly,  by  the  lapse  of  time  and  conquest 
of  distance.  Near,  very  near,  were  the  Cali 
fornia  Adventurers  to  the  goal  of  their  golden 
aspirations.  Each  hour  looked  they  now  for 
the  first  glimpse  of  the  glorious  El  Dorado — 
the  captain's  observations  told  him  that  he 
was  in  the  immediate  vicinity,  nor  did  they 
deceive  him. 

1  Land  ho  1  land  ho  P 

•  Ho,  the  mast-head  1  whereaway  ?' 

1  Ahead,  sir— two  points  free.' 


4  What  does  it  look  like  ?' 

'  Like  an  arm  of  the  mainland  reaching 
out  around  the  sea,*  hailed  back  the  look  out 
from  aloft.  '  You'll  have  it  on  deck,  soon, 
sir  1' 

4  The  Bay  of  San  Francisco!  the  Bay  of 
San  Francisco  1'  proclaimed,  amid  one  deaf- 
eninc  cheer,  the  captain's  sonorous  voice. 

'  Nine  times  nine,  my  hearties  !  nine  times 
nine,  for  old  California  1 — it  is  ours — ours  at- 
last.  After  all  our  perils,  all  our  dangers,  now 
to  reap  the  rich  reward  I  Yonder,  within  the 
wide  sweep  of  that  arm  of  the  sea,  lies  San 
Francisco,  and  there  to  the  northward,  winds 
the  golden  waters  of  the  Sacramento  I  In  five 
hours  more  we  touch  the  precious  soil  of  Cali 
fornia  1  Hurrah  1  boys,  hurrah  1  Fortune  is 
before  us !' 


70 


KIT  CARSON. 


Tne  Merchant* t  Clerk  in  J'rifon—The  Un 
expected  Cioinf  l<\>rttnn  —  Lincoln  once  more 
bound  fur  California, 

'Ha,  ha,  ha!  1  liuvc    severed    the  chains 

around  mo — 
'Ha,  ha,  Im  !  1  have  burst  the  fetters  that 

bound  mo !' 

1  To  bear,  is  to  conquer  our  fate.' 

ftOM  the  goal   of  our 
adventurers1     fortune* 
favored  wishes  we  now 
return,  from  the  newly 
pained  shores  of  Call' 
.Vfornia-goldon  paradise, 
^to  ono  whoso  cruol  fato 

had  BO  strangely  prevented  him  from  partici 
pation  in  the  ccstncicfl  with  which  the  delight, 
od  voyagciirn  hohold  themselves  at  length  on 
the  very  threshold  of  their  bright  hope's  be 
wildering  consummation  ;  where  wo  now  for 
a  brief  time  leave  them,  to  foljow  an  curlier 
scent,  which  hns  been,  in  the  meanwhile, 
lost. 

In  prison  lay  Eugene  Lincoln  1    It  was  the 

day  after  the  sailing  of  the  ship  S ,  nnd 

the  same  morning's  light  found  the  merchant's 
clerk  the  tenant  of  Leverett  street  Jail — the 
solitary  occupant  of  a  nanow  cell,  with  only 
a  wretched  pallet  for  his  resting  place,  during 
the  night  of  misery  that  had  already  passed. 

1  Heaven  help  mo  !  have  I  come  to  this, 
Great  God?'  was  his  waking  query  and  his 
constant  thought. '.  *  0  mother,  my  sainted, 
angel  mother  1  didst  thou  think  to  see  thy 
poor  Eugene  thus? — a  cantivo  in  a  public 
prison!  No,  Ono!  Alas!  thy  own  sorrow- 

ng  life,  mother,  him  been  thy  poor  eon's  solo 


inheritance !  For  long,  long  years,  one  only 
cup  of  happiness  has  been  raiund  to  ihy  lipa  ; 
and  even  ihat  retention*  destiny  dauber*,  ere 
tasted,  from  my  grasp!' 

And  ho  groaned  in  his  misery. 

The  sound  of  approaching  footsteps  were 
heard,  nt  this  juncture,  without  the  cell ;  a 
key  turned  heavily  in  the  lock — the  turnkey 
entered. 

The  prisoner  started  up,—4  Ha,  sir !  you 
are  my  jailor  ?' 

The  turnkey  nodded. 

Anxious  for  explanation,  Eugene  sprang 
eagerly  forward  to  meet  meet  him — so  very 
eagerly,  that  the  man  mistook  his  purpose, 
and  roughly  pushed  him  back,  grullly  say 
ing, 

4  None  o1  that,  if  you  ploaso.  Yon  nccd'nt 
think  to  escape,  my  covey  !' 

'  You  misunderstand  rno,  fellow — I  did  but 
seek  to  leurn  why,  and  by  what  right  I  am 
thtiM  confined.' 

'  Oho  !  you  did,  did  you  ?'  was  the  sneer 
ing  reply,  in  an  incredulous  tone.  *  For  debt, 
man,  of  course.' 

'  For  debt !'  repeated  the  prisoner ;  '  oh  !  I 
do  remember  it, — '  for  debt,  at  the  suit  of 
John  Vornon,'  tlitwu  wuro  tho  very  words  !— 
Tis  false  !'  cried  he,  energetically,  '  'Tin 
fuls-j,  I  tell  you,  I  owe  him  not— I  owe  no 
man.' 

4  .A  good  way  to  get  clear  of  a  man's  hon 
est  debts,  isn't  it  now?'  sneered  tho  gaoler  ; 
1  better  nor  tho  bankrupt  law,  by  considerable, 
this  making  tracks  for  California  !' 

4  Scoundrel !'  rose  to  the  lips  of  Eugene, 
but  ho  prudently  repressed  it  from  policy,  for 
he  had  an  end  to  gain.  lie  therefore  swallow 
ed  his  indignation,  and  said  calmly  but  im 
pressively, — 

1  Listen  to  mo,  sir.    I  neither  stand  indobt- 


KIT  CARSON. 


71 


*d  a  penny's  value  to  John  Vernon,  nor  do  I 
I  know  any  person  by  such  a  name.' 
1  Gammon  !'  prowled  the  keeprr.J 
*  As  I  hope  for  heaven  !' persisted  Lincoln, 
in  a  solemn  munncr,  '  what  I  say  is  strictly 
iruc.' 

'  Oh  1  it  is  all  true,  is  it,  mister?  Well, 
and  wh.it  then  ?'  was  tho  official'*  insolent 
rejoinder. 

4  What  then,  sir? — this,'— exclaimed  the 
young  nmn,  no  longer  ahlc  to  control  his  riw- 
ing  indignation, — '  It  is  all  a  foul  conspiracy, 
u  falsehood  from  beginning  to  end.  That  man 
docs  not  live  who  can  say  th.it  Kngcno  Lin- 
coin  is  his  lawful  debtor  for  a  dollar.  I  see 
the  drift  of  this  whole  matter — it  was  some 
villainous  scheme  to  prevent  my  departure  for 
California;  though  God  only  knows  to  whoso 
malignity  I  owe  it — I  knew  not  that  I  had  an 
enemy  in  the  world.' 

Hut  the  jailer  seemed  to  grow  impatient, 
for  setting  down  the  food  he  had  brought^  he 
said,  hastily, — 

•  Well,  well ;  I  can't  stop,  dallying  here  all 
day,  that's  martin.  It's  all  humbug,  I  suppose, 
this  stuff  that  you've  been  a  tellin'  me  ;  at  all 
events,  if  it  in  true,  Mister,  you've  your  re 
dress,  that's  nil.  If  so  be  it's  just  as  you  say, 
and  you  don't  owe  the  man  as  complained  of 
you,  why  then  you  can  take  out  a  warrant 
agin  him  for  false  imprisonment  and  malicious 
prosecution,  and  lay  your  damages  accord 
ingly.  But  if  this  story  of  yours  is  all  gam 
mon,  why,  in  that  case,  if  you're  a  poor  devil 
and  htive'nl  any  money,  you  can  stay  in  jug 
thirty  days,  and  then  swear  out  on  the  poor 
debtor's  oath.  There's  some  comfort  for  you 
either  way.' 

And  the  rough,  but  not  altogether  unfeeling 
jailer,  thus  speaking,  turned  the  lock  once 
more  upon  his  prisoner,  leaving  him  to 
partake  of  his  coarse  and  scanty  meal,  am 
went  his  way. 

'  Thanks  for  the  hint,  at  nil  events,'  solilo 
ijuized  the  captive  *,  and  ho  formed  tho -de 
termination  of  acting  upon  this  very  good  ad 
vice,  resolving  to  go  immediately  before  th< 
examining  magistrate,  to  contest  the  debt,  am 
institute  proceedings  ngainst  his  unknown 
prosecutor  for  conspiracy  and  illegal  deten 
tion. 

But  he  was,  in  part,  spared  that  trouble. — 
His  jailor,  in  the  course  of  flin  day,  rcturne 
with  the  unexpected  information  that  tho  plain 
tiff  had  failed  to  appear  to  prove  his  charge 
and  that,  consequently,  the  latter  was  dis 


missed,  and  the  defendant   discharged  from 
custody. 

Burning  with  indignation  ngainst  his  cow- 
rdly  persecutor,  but  unable  to  surmise  what 
ncmy  he  could  hnvo  made,  to  do  him  this 
>ul  injury,  tho  released  Lincoln  left  ao  pos- 
iblc  means  untried  to  obtain  access  to  his 
resence  ;  but  his  efforts  wcro  in  vain,  his  in- 
uirica  as  useless  ;  even  from  tho  policeman 

r-ho  had  apprehended  him  upon  the  S 'H 

ecks,  no  satisfaction  could  ho  obtain,  and 
carcely  any  explanation  whatever :  save  that 
o  had  been  employed  by  un  old  man,  call- 
ig  himself  by  the  name  of  John  Vernon,  to 
rrest  an  absconding  debtor,  on  his  way  to 
!  ilifurnia. 

This  scanty  informition  he  had  obtained 
>nly  by  threats  of  implicating  the  officer  as 
m  accessory  to  tho  conspiracy  :  and  Lincoln 
vent  away,  convinced  in  his  own  mind,  that 
he  sheriff  had  been  bribed  to  silence,  and 
hat  the  whole  had  been  the  work  of  some 
secret  foe,  to  whose  identity  he  could  detect 
no  clue. 

Of  tho  name,  alone,  was  he  in  possession  : 
hough  it,  too,  wns  a  stranger  to  him  ;  and, 
fohn  Vernon  !  John  Vernon  !'  a  hundred 
imes  he  repeated  to  himself,  bent  on  fixing 
hat  name  so  firmly  in  his  thought  that  nothing 
should  eradicate  the  memory  of  the  sole  key 
no  had  to  the  future  discovery  of  a  mystery 
that  much  perplexed,  nay,  nearly  maddened 
im. 

Hut  this  wa*  not  the  only  blow  ho  was  des 
tined  to  feel.  Ilis  next  step,  of  course,  after 
surrendering  the  futil_>  search  for  his  myste 
rious  persecutor,  was  to  seek  his  sister  in  her 
home,  and  surprise  her  with  the  personal  an 
nouncement  that  her  brother  wad  still  in  the 
city,  a  lingerer  yet  upon  the  soil  he  was  sup 
posed  to  have  leit  behind. 

Ilownhall  wo  describe  the  feelings  of  Lin 
coln,  when  met  at  tho  door  of  hi«  cottngo- 
homo  by  its  weeping  mistress,  with  the  tale  of 
her  young  charge's  strange  disappearance; 
and  its  startling  explanation,  contained  in  tho 
brief  note  left  by  his  sister,  to  allay,  in  some 
'measure,  the  apprehensions  which  her  other 
wise  inexplicable  departure  must  occasion. 
Better,  far  better,  can  the  penetrating  reader 
conceive,  than  wo  depict,  tho  effect  on  the 
hapless  brother. 

1  Misfortunes  novor  come  singly — how  true 
these  words,'  ho  said  at  last,  O  how  bitterly. 

1  Heavens  1  and  00  'twas  not  enough  that 
all  my  plans  should  be  thwarted,  all  my  bright 


KIT  CARSON. 


hopes  dashed  to  earth !  not  enough,  when 
even  fortune  seemed  for  a  while  providential- 
ly  to  favor  me,  that  the  paradise  of  my  aspira 
tions  should  bo  torn  from  beneath  my  very 
feet,  and  this  beating  heart  hurled  headlong 
from  the  pinnacle  of  hope — no,  no !  miseries 
had  not'  enough  accumulated,  even  when 
«tern  fate  made  me  a  companion  with  felons, 
a  fellow  prisoner  with  the  thieves  and  pick* 
pockets  of  my  native  city  !  No;  to  all  this 
id  added  this  last,  most  tciriblo  blow  of  all  ; 
and  from  tho  gloom  and  misery  of  a  jail,  I 
emerge  to  find  her,  for  whose  sake  I  would 
havo  sought  the  .shores  of  California,  torn 
from  her  home,  exposed  to  the  'dangers  of  a 
sea  voyage,  and  the  thousand  hazards  which 
beset  an  unprotected  girl — the  companion  of 
a  band  of  adventurers !  Well,  well !  'tis  fate 
— I  must,  I  must  submit.' 

But  the  stoicism  of  settled  despair  breathed 
in  tin  last  word?,  soon  qualified  him  fur  culm 
and  cool  deliberation.  When  ho  reflected, 
dispassionately,  fathoming  as  he  did  the  whole 
of  his  young  sister's  devoted  scheme,  he 
could  not  but  admit  that  tho  thoughtless  girl 
was  not  altogether  unprotected  ;  that  matters 
were  not  quite  so  bud  as  they  might  have 
b;en. 

Ellen,  though  deprived  of  a  brother's  care, 
had  still  one  friend  left  to  look  to;  one  who 
loved  her  with  manly  devotion  ;  and  Lincoln 
felt  assured  that  Henry  Vernon  would  peril 
his  very  existence  to  shield  the  woman  whom 
ho  idolized  from  harm. 

Despite,  therefore,  every  fear  and  draw, 
buck,  Eugene  could  not  well  shut  his  heart 
t>  thexe  comforting  convictions,  and  comfort 
ed  ho  was. 

Yet  mingled  with  these  grains  of  consola 
tion,  camo  buck  the  maddening  thought  of 
his'own  situation;  his  intended  voyago  pre 
vented  his  blighted  visions  of  wealth,  his  pas* 
Mijju-money  lost,  his  heart's  dearest  object 
bullied.  Yet  lie  would  not  suf'.r  himself  to 
be  excited  by  these  aggravating  reminiscences 
— he  sixt  himself  down  to  meditate  coolly  on 
the  best  course  to  bo  pursued. 

He  could  not  bear  tho  idea  of  relinquishing 
for -over  the  goiden  dream  of  fortune  that  still 
haunted  him;  he  felt,  indeed,  that  ho  hud  a 
fresh  incentive  to  persevere  in  his  original 
intention,  for  not  only  would  he  be  on  the 
high-road  to  tho  wealth  he  so  panted  for,  but 
tliis  would  of  course  place  him  in  tho  immo- 
diato  way  of  regaining  his  lost  sister.  Yet 
.Mga'nat  all  this,  he  hud  forfeited  both  his  op 


portunity  and  its  purchase  money— for  the 
passage-payment  had  of  course  been  made, 
and  was  lust  to  him — and  thus  was  swallowed 
up  the  whole  amount  he  had  reserved  for 
his  own  use — how  then  wai  the  means  for  a 
fresh  venture  to  be  obtained?  True,  two 
hundred  of  his  thousand  yet  remained  in  the 
widow's  baud,  but  thin  was  sacredto  the  good 
woman's  use,  and  no  earthly  consideration 
would  have  induced  him  to  withdraw  the 
generous  gift  from  one  to  whom  befell  under 
grateful  obligation. 

Long  and  deliberately  ho  pondered,  but  the 
end  of  all  this  was,  that  he  resolved  on  laying 
his  whole  situation  frankly  before  the  noble 
and  liberal  minded  man  who  hnd  fo  magnani 
mously  rewarded  the  signal  service  rendered 
to  tho  firm  in  which  he  was  so  deeply  in 
terested. 

The  result  exceeded  even  the  most  sanguine 
anticipations  he  had  dared  to  form.  The 
gentleman  heard  him,  attentively  and  kindly, 
listened  patiently  to  the  frank  narrative  of  the 
young  man's  disappointment  and  subsequent 
trials,  the  loss  of  sister,  friend,  passago  and 
passage-money;  and,  after  satisfying  himself 
by  inquiry,  of  tho  truth  of  Lincoln's  singular 
statement,  he  announced  to  his  overjoyed 
protege,  his  fullest  confidence  in  his  honor 
and  good  faith,  and  own  determination  to  aid 
his  praine«worthy  young  friend  to  tho  best  of 
hit*  ability. 

In  little  more  than  one  week's  time  after 
Eugene  Lincoln  cmergnd  from  Lovorett  «t. 
jail,  an  arrangement  hud  boon  perfected,  by 
virtue  of  which  ho  was  to  proceed,  overland, 
to  San  Francisco,  as  tho  agent  and  partner  of 
his  benefactor,  in  a  private  adventure  to  the 
Gold  Regions ! 

Every  preparation  was  made,  everything 
duly  arranged  for  tho  comfort  and  conveni 
ence  of  the  young  adventurer,  mid  by  tho 
tenth  duy  following  tho  sailing  of  his  sister 
and  Vernon,  ho  found  himself  fully  cquip'pcd 
for  a  mining  and  trading  expedition,  and  on 
his  way  over  the  continent  of  America,  to 
distant  California. 

•  The  overland  route  had  been  selected  by 
his  benefactor  as  tho  safest  and  most  expe 
ditious,  though  the  most  expensive.  And  with 
the  eagerness  of  new-born  hope  did  Eugene 
Lincoln,  no  longer  the  merchant's  clerk,  but 
the  independent  adventurer,  proceed  on  his 
enterprise. 

From  Boston  to  New  York,  and  thence  to 
Pennsylvania's  &istor  city,  by  railroad  he  pro- 


KIT  CARSON. 


73 


ceedcd ;  ascending  Lake  E'K  ,  the  same 
steamer  bore  him  through  the  long  chain  of 
inland  sens,  even  to  the  western  limits  of  Su 
perior.  To  the  great  Father  of  Waters  the 
transition  was  easy  :  down  the  Mississippi  to 
its  junction  with  the  Missouri,  and  from  thence 
westward  along  the  latter  river,  hastened  the 
traveller  ;  and  here,  at  last  leaving  the  course 
of  thm  kingly  stream,  a  stout  prairie  horse  and 
nn  Indian  guide  conducted  him  onward,  by 
daily  stages,  along  the  beaten  track  of  Fre 
mont's  celebrated  route  across  the  moun 
tains. 

Onward,  resolutely,  he  pressed  ;  days  pass 
ed,  but  each  one  saw  him  many  leagues  nearer 
to  his  final  destination.  He  calculated  upon 
reaching  San  Francisco  a  \veek  at  least  in 
advance  of  the  ocear-voyageurs,  and  there 
rejoining  them  ;  and  with  a  thrill  of  delighted 
feeling  at  length  learned  he  from  his  guide, 
that  they  were  within  seven  days' journey  ot 
their  destination, — and  no'.hing  had,  as  yet, 
laken  place  to  delay  his  successful  pro 
gress. 

But  man  is  ever  confident — and  little  did 
Eugene  Lincoln  anticipate  the  strange  and 
startling  interruption  he  was  destined  now 
to  meet ! 


The  Wateltfire  of  the  Gnld  Iluntrrs— Dan 
gers  of  {he  Overland  Route. —  Tke  Puma's 
Ferocious  Attack — Tke  Death  of  the  In 
dian  Guide — Lincoln  Lout  in  the  Wilder 
ness. 

'  Hark  !  hark  !  through  the  jungle 

The  wild  beast  creeps  ; 
BewrtVe,  O  beware  !  when 

The  monster  leaps !' 


AR  and  wide,  around 
the  traveller,  stretched 
the  green,  level  wilder 
ness  of  a  mighty  prai 
rie.  The  day  was  de 
clining — it  had  been  a 
clear  and  brilliant  one 

for  that  season  of  the  year,  even  in  those  la 
titudes—and  night-fall  was  fast  approach 
ing. 

Fortune,  so  far,  we  hare  already  said,  had 
favored  our  overland  adventurer.     Not  that 


difficulties  and  obstacles  had  been,  by  any 
means,  entirely  avoided  ;  but  no  serious  im 
pediments  had  arisen.  Hardships  end  priva 
tions  there  were,  however,  and  these  present 
ed  themselves  in  the  forms  so  naturally  to  be 
expected,  in  a  far  journey  through  a  wild, 
western  wilderness, — and  unsettled  tract  of 
forest  and  prairie  land,  the  hunting-ground 
of  the  savage  and  the  home  of  t^e  tameless 
beast. 

Lincoln  and  his  solitary  companion,  the 
guide,  had  halted  for  the  niglit,  and  pitched 
their  tent  ;  wh!ch,  with  their  other  necessary 
equipments,  were  carried  by  two  led  horses, 
the  travellers  themselves  mounting  a  couple 
of  strong  Indian  ponies,  thut  served  their  pur 
pose  well. 

Two  months  had  nearly  elapsed  since, 
leaving  the  course  of  the  Mississippi,  they 
had  commenced  the  ascent  of  the  Missouri- 
hundreds  of  miles  to  the  westward  of  its 
extreme  source  they  row  found  themselves; 
and  in  the  midst  of  the  most  desolatq  region 
they  had  yet  eutered.  The  very  farthest 
boundaries  of  civilization  seemed  to  have  been 
passed  ;  it  was  many  days  since  the  last  log 
house  of  the  squatter  had  greeted  their  eyes  ; 
the  territory  of  the  friendly  Indian  tribes  had 
sometime  since  been  left  behind,  and  even 
the  roving  red  men  were  only  rarely  now  to 
be  met  with,  and  then  few  in  number  and  far 
between, 

But  little  cared  Lincoln  for  this  ;  for  from 
his  fellow-traveller  and  guide  he  had  already 
learned  with  satisfaction,  th-\t  they  were  now 
only  seven  day's  journey  from  San  Francisco 
nnd  the  sea  shore,  and  he  felt,  with  equal  joy, 
that  the  deserted  aspect  of  the  country  was 
hut  a  gratifying  proof  of  his  near  approach 
to  the  Pacific  coast. 

The  sun  was  setting  as  they  built  the  watch- 
fire  and  prepared  to  cook  their  evening  meal. 
The  latter  consisted  of  a  fat  haunch  of  veni 
son,  a  welcome  prize  from  a  noblo  buck,  the 
Indian  had  an  hour  before  shot ;  and  screen 
ed  from  the  cold  night  air  by  the  thick  folds 
of  their  tent,  they  made  as  grateful  a  repast 
in  that  wild  prairie  as  ever  blessed  the  pam 
pered  palate  of  the  most  fastidious  epicure. 
But  ere,  tired  and  weary  though  they  were, 
either  retired  after  this  refreshment  to  repose, 
there  were  certain  precautions  to  be  taken, 
which  the  safety  of  both  rendered  absolutely 
necessary  . 

In  their  whole  course  through  the  prairie, 
and  ever  since  they  had  left  the  last  outpoata 


74 


KIT  CARSON. 


of  civilization,  they  had  boon  annoyed  during 
night,  and  their  safety  oonatnnlly  jeopardi/cd 
by  the  wild  bcunt«  with  which  that  region  wax 
infested, 

To  secure  themselves  ogairiHt  these  noctur 
nal  visitors,  they  had  been  compelled  to  gu- 
ther  around  llwir  nightly  Ivalting  places  u  per 
fect  wull  of  wood  and  rttkbUh)  which  was 
fired  and  loft  to  burn,  watched  by  one-  of  the 
two  companions  whilo  the  other  slept ;  cncli 
taking  his  turn  in  tending  the  fire,  lighted  to 
frighten  nil  beasts  of  prey  from  too  ulosu 
proxitniiVi 

A  sulVicieiicy,  however,  of  sticks  and  other 
combustible  matter  hud  already  boon  collect* 
I'd;  and  surrounding  luemnolven  by  this  Max* 
ing  rainpuit  of  defence,  they  spread  their  skin 
couches  in  security.  AH  it  wus  necessary  to 
UHU  tho  utmost  precaution  in  keeping  alivo 
the  fire,  only  Lincoln,  at  lii>i,  retired  to  u>t, 
it  being,  as  usual,  arranged,  that  ut  a  certain 
hour,  tho  Indian  should  awaken  him,  when 
they  weru  to  exchange  sitiiat  o  is. 

( iK'fttly  refreshed  by  his  simple,  prairie  re* 
past,  after  a  day's  hard  travel,  and  feeling  tho 
want  of  rcposr,  tho  traveller  did  not  suffer 
hit  reflection*  to  det.iin  him  lung  from  iinl^n. 
ruling  slumber;  though  hi*  very  lust  waking 
thought  was  ono  of  sulikfuctiuu  that  ho  was 
BO  near  his  journey '«  end. 

His  last  glance,  UH  liu  lay  ga/.ing,  with  u 
iOnintion  of  ex<|uiMto  comfort  ut  tho  Lla/ing 
fire,  wm  fixed  upon  the  figure  of  tho  dusky 
guide  ;  who  silt  crouching  on  his  hum*  heforo 
the  burning  embers,  his  copper-colored  cum* 
ple.xion  and  strongly  liinrkuil  features  reflect* 
ing,  liko  the  face  oi  Home  hroir/y  statue,  the 
red  glow  oflho  cruck'.ing  flumes;  us  with  his 
right  hand  the  Indian  Ni.rri'd  tho  fuu,  while, 
with  tho  left,  he  took  long  and  frequent 
ditughts  of  brandy  from  u  rude,  deer-nkin 
flunk,  inlaid  with  uome  gummy  preparation 
that  rendered  it  impervious  to  liquids,  And, 
indeed,  never  was  stimulant  more  needed  ;  lor 
the  day  hud  been  one  of  unusual  fatigue,  in* 
curred  in  fording  n  river  but  n  few  miles 
back,  anu  with  u  hftlf-nltfht'n  tedious  watch 
before  him,  ho  required  its  support, 

Tho  wouriiul  traveller,  iiKJiinwhile,  »k'pt,— - 
Tho  taciturn  Indian,  occasionally  puusing  to 
look  at  his  slumbering  companion,  druw  forth 
Ilia  pipe,  and  chauntir.g  now  and  then  n 
broken  fragment  of  a  cavugo  war-Bong,  aban 
doned  himself  to  the  double  delight  of  Binok* 
ing  und'drinkjng.  {'till,  with  the  red  man's 
cuutiyn,  he  relaxed  not  hie  vigilance  ;  but  ut 


frequent  intervals  stopped  to  enliven  the  fire, 
nnd  udd  a  log  or  two  to  tho  Mill  burning 
BMMi 

It  wait  to  bo  remarked,  however,  that  these 
interval*  became  gradually  longer,  hia  limbs 
came  less  readily  to  the  repeated  task,  and 
his  head  began  almost  initcnxitily  to  nwny  to 
and  fro,  with  a  dull,  munotonou*  movement, 

The  night  woro  on«  The  tdeeping  travel* 
ler  continued  to  repose — tho  wntch-firo  to 
burn  brightly  as  before.  The  only  Hounds  to 
bu  heard,  through  the  stillness  of  tho  night, 
wero  tho  occasional  neighing*)  of  the.  horne.", 
which  were  at  rest  within  the  enclnMire,  pro* 
tee.ted,  like  their  masters,  by  tho  bin/ing  eir* 
cl<!  that  suiri'imded  them  ;  or,  from  the  dark* 
mied  prairie  without,  the  howl  oi  Homo  wild 
heust,  uiiraeted  near  by  tho  illumination,  but 
likewi.su  deterred  by  it  from  venturing  within 
the  ring. 

Once  or  twice,  indeed,  the  cries  of  these 
dangerous  neighbors  wero  heard  clono  ut 
bund,  and  their  uliifiing  outlines  dimly  to  bo 
disccrncv!,  not  ten  feet  distant  from  the  watch 
lire  ;  but  '.bus  guarded,  the  travellers  wero  in 
no  danger.  And  in  this  manner  blowly  waned 
the  long  night, 

Suddenly  u  rude  shock  broke  tho  rewt  of 
the  tdoeping  traveller.  He  uwuke,  Started 
up,  bounded  to  hia  feet,  with  the  dreamy,  in- 
distinct  perception  of  u  rushing  sound,  u  hu 
man  cry,  a  deafening  nmr, 

Appalled,  dreading  he  Nearco  knew  what, 
Iiinei'ln  dashed  aside  the  hanging*  of  tho  rude 
lent,  and  leaped  forth  into  tho  centre  of  tho 
enclosure, 

All  was  nilcnee  and  tturkneu  there  I— tho 
watehlire  had  gone  out  I 

'Merciful  (iodl*  ho  thought,  'what  can 
have  happened  'I'  4 

Ho  could  feel  the  wild  throbbing*  of  his 
beating  heart  ai*  ho  bout  down  over  the  smok 
ing  embers,  and  tried  tq  fan  into  a  flame  the 
faint  bla/o  of  u  few  livo  coals  that  still  re* 
nmmed,  liko  tho  last  lingering  utarah  the  fir* 
mament,  the  ronnant  of  the  glowing  wn'.ch- 
fire  that  had  burned  m  brilliantly  bcnrath  his 
last  waking  look. 

With  a  husky  volco  ho  culled  on  the  nnmo 
of  tho  guide,— 

'  Wampul  Wampn!  In  Cod's  nnmo  an 
swer  1' 

No  Wampa's  well-known  tongue  replied. 

Tho  dying  embers,  heaped  together,  at  that 
moment  burst  into  u  blu/e — he  caught  up  a 
half-burnt  faggot,  and  caul  it  among  the  hot 


KIT  CARSON. 


75 


coals — it  in  turn,  kindled,  and  threw  up  a 
bright  light  over  the  •  camping-ground.'  The 
Indian  was  not  there. 

What  could    this   mean  ?     Lincoln  dared 
not  ask  himself. 

The  increasing  light  flashed  yet  more 
brightly  around  ;  and  then,  as  Lincoln  stoop 
ed  one  moment  down,  his  steadfast  scrutiny, 
bent  on  the  ground,  he  saw,  along  the  wide 
bed  of  smouldering  ashes,  along  the  whitened 
surface  of  the  earth,  clear  and  distinct,  and 
but  too  palpable — the  streaming  traces  of  hu 
man  blood,  tho  deep  indentations  of  four 
enortnous  feet,  and,  beside  the  latter,  the 
marks  as  of  some  heavy  body  dragged  swift- 
Ij  across! 

The  dripping  gore,  the  tracks  of  a  quad 
ruped  in  the  blood-stained  ashes,  the  signs  of 
a  burden  borne  away  ;  all  told  with  dreadful 
plainness,  to  the  traveller,  tho  fate  of  his  hap 
less  guide  ! 

On  the  ground  where  the  Indian  had  last 
been  seen  sitting,  beside  a  pool  of  blood,  lay 
the  brandy  flask,  which  had  cheered  his  mid 
night  vigil.  It  was  empty — it  told  its  own 
tale. 

The  poo'  Indian,  from  his  excessive  and 
unusual  fatigue,  had  doubtless  found  himscli 
forced  to  stimulate  his  exhausted  energies  by 
increasing  the  quantity  of  his  accus-tomcd 
draughts,  until  ihcy  ended  in  pradu.il  exhaus 
tion  and  intoxication  ;  and  in  this  state  of  par 
tial  oblivion  and  helplessness,  it  was  plain  he 
must  have  suffered  the  firo  unconsciously  t 
be  extinguished — thus  removing  the  barrie 
that  had  in'crposcd  its  friendly  protection 
from  the  savage  animals  that  prowled  covet 
ously  around. 

The  fearful    finale   was   no  less  evident — 
some  one  of  these  terrors  of  the  prairie,  scent 
ing  its  prey,  and  no  longer  held  back   by  the 
fire,  had  leaped  the  enclosure,  and  seizing  or 
the  first  living  object  in  its  course,  had  born 
off  the  defenceless  Indian,  of  course  incapabl 
of  resistance,  now  a   mangled  feast   for  th 
beast  of  prey. 

Everything  indicated  that  fearful  intruder 
to  have  been  an  animal  of  enormous  size  and 
power  ;  but  to  what  description  of  quadrupeds 
it  belonged,  Lincoln  had  not  the  experience 
adequate  to  decide. 

But  might  it  not  have  committed  yet  greater 
ravages,  unknown  to  him?  He  thought  of 
the  horses,  and  with  a  thrill  of  wild  apprehen 
sion  he  turned  toward  that  quarter  of  the  en 
closure  occupied  by  them. 


There,  huddled  in  one  frightened  group  to- 
;ether,  trembling  and  shivering  ;  with  care 
aid  flat  against  their  heads  ;  their  limbs  in- 
apable  of  motion,  save  the  quivering  of  fear, 
tood  the  objects  of  his  inquiring  glance. — 
L'he  sight  told  volumes  of  the  dread  charac- 
er  of  the  encampment's  late  invader.  But 
here  was  no  time  for  reflection;  even  as  he 
hus  gazed,  suddenly  he  beheld,  first  one  and 
hen  another  of  the  horses  break  suddenly 
away,  leap  forward,  then  as  abruptly  recoil, 
[uaking  in  every  limb — their  nostrils  dilated 
and  snuffing  convulsively  at  the  night  air. — 
There  wusatcund  like  rushing  feet,  and  then 
i  terrific  roar. 

A  shrill  neigh  of  terror  broke  from  the  af- 
righted  horses,  who  had  scented  the  coming 
of  their  enemy — it  was  the  wild  animal,  re 
turning  from  its  den  to  bear  thither  a  second 
prey  ! 

Before  I  jincoln  could  rush  to  the  tent ;  be 
fore  he  coujd  gras^  a  weapon  of  defence,  the 
returning  animal  had  reached  the  spot,  clear 
ed  the  enclosure,  and  taken  its  le.np.  He 
had  just  time  to  pluck  up  a  firebrand  from  the 
midst  of  the  few  rekindled  embers,  as  the  ani 
mal  appeared. 

Instantaneous  death  fully  expected,  he  yet 
retained  presence  of  mind  suflicient  to  wave 
the  burning  brand  before  the  eyes  of  the  leap 
ing  beast,  which  made  its  last  grand  spring 
rigl.tat  the  spot  on  which  he  stood. 

It  was  an  instant  of  intense  horror  ;  there 
was  a  rushing  in  the  atmosphere,  like  tho 
hurricane  passage  of  a  cannon  ball;  he  felt 
himself  hurled,  with  a  wild  shock,  backward 
to  the  earth  ;  he  turned,  as  he  thought,  his 
last  despairing  glance  upward  at  the  heaven 

above,  at  the  world  urouud,^md the  beast 

had  passed  over  his  head,  overturning  him  in 
its  way.  as  it  leaped  among  tho  cowering 
horses  behind  ! 

A  shriek  of  agony,  an  almost  human  sob, 
from  the  doomed  steed  on  whose  back  the 
destroying  beast  had  sprung — *and  then  the 
noise  of  a  desperate  struggle,  followed  by  tho 
gushing  sound  of  spurting  blood,  and  the 
horse,  with  its  jugular  artery  .severed,  itslife- 
current  draining  last,  was  dragged,  with 
fierce  growls,  over  the  enclosure,  and  rapidly 
disappeared  from  before  its  master's  eyes,  in 
the  surrounding  obscurity  ;  proving  how  mon 
strous  must  be  the  strength  of  the  animal  that 
inflicted  its  dying  agonies. 

What  were,  what  must  have  been  the  feel 
ings  of  the  survivor!     The  terrible  visitor  had 


70 


KIT  CARSON. 


disappeared  again  with  hit  prey  ;  but  was  it 
not  that  he  might  convey  this  new  victim  to 
hit  lair  ?— and  would  he  not  a  third  time 
return  ? 

The  thought  was  dreadful ;  still  it  was  but 
too  reasonable.  And  like  a  brave  man  did 
he  prepare  for  the  emergency.  Many  mo- 
mcnts  would  probably  pass  oro  the  dreaded 
return  was  to  bo  expected  ;  his  only  safety 
lay,  evidently  in  so  improving  that  time,  ac  to 
rekindle  tho  fire  which  had  boon  his  safe 
guard.  It  was  no  light  tntik  to  collect  tho 
necessary  fuel;  but  quickly  ho  hud  encircled 
the  camp  with  u  wall  of  blazing  faggots,  and 
soon  tho  gold-seeker's  watch-fire,  in  its  pris 
tine  brilliancy,  once  more  its  burning  /one 
displayed. 

Safe  once  again  within  its  charmed  circle, 
Eugene  Lincoln  had  leisure  now  to  seek, 
within  tho  tent,  for* tho  arms  with  which  he 
was  of  course  provided.  Just  within  tho 
flaming  wall  ho  then  took  his  station,  with  a 
heavy  horse  pistol  in  ono  hund,  another  in  hi* 
bolt,  and  along  bowie-knife  tight  between  his 
teeth.  And  thus  nnned,  thus  prepared, 
awaited  ho  for  the  first  Hignal  of. tho  animal's 
third  reappearance,  which  ho  was  resolved 
should  he  tho  lust  I 

Hark  !  how  tho  prairie-grass  crackles — how 
the  tall  spears  wave,  and  tho  dry  sticks  snap 
in  pieces  beneath  that  swift  tread.  Tho  ra 
venous  beast  returns  to  finish  his  bloody  feast. 
With  ono  rapid  succession  of  long  bounds, 
onward  ho  comes — then  the  curs  of  Lincoln 
were  almost  deafened  by  the  howl  of  furious 
disappointment  with  which  the  rapacious  ani 
mal  moots  tho  flory  barrier  in  his  path. 

Scenting  hi*  piny  and  enraged  at  the  ob 
stacle,  round  and  round  the  flatnc-wtilled  -en* 
closure  circled  the  powerful  brute  ;  socking  in 
vnm  for  some  inlet  in  that  glowing  rampart. 
Repeatedly  he  ventured  close  «o  tho  flames, 
then  backed  as  ofien ;  intimidated  by  that 
element  which  is  the  devouring  scourge  of  the 
prairie.  Once,  indeed,  furious  at  being  so 
long  bafllcd,  tho  enraged  beast  actually  made 
an  attempt  to  leap  tho  fire,  but  fell  back, 
severely  scorchdd,  and  burnt,  and  retired, 
gnashing  his  teeth  with  impotent  vengeance. 

He  soon  catnn  back,  however  ;  not  as  Lin 
coln  hud  expected,  to  renew  bis  efforts;  but 
to  lay  himself  quietly  down,  within  a  safe  dis 
tance  from  the  fire,  where  ho  stretched  him 
self  out  at  full  length,  and  remained  with  his 
head  resting  upon  his  paw  and  his  red  eyes 


steadily  fixed  on  the   traveller   within   the 
magic  ring. 

This  action  alarmed  the  latter  far  more 
than  the  most  desperate  attempts  of  the  ani 
mal  to  reach  him.  Ho  saw  at  once  that  hid 
enemy,  perceiving  the  uselessncssof  such  en 
deavors,  had,  with  brute  sagacity,  laid  him- 
self  down,  patiently  to  await  the  lime  when 
the  traveller's  fuel  should  become  exhausted, 
and  the  fire  to  die  away,  for  want  of  susten 
ance. 

To  Lincoln  it  was  plain,  that,  in  such  an 
event,  ho  would  bo  completely  at  tho  mercy 
of  his  pitiless  foo. 

It  was  yet,  he  calculated,  three  hours  until 
sunriso,  the  guardian  fire  conld  not  be  more 
than  an  hour  longer  sustained,  with  his  pro- 
sent  fuel ;  nor,  in  the  presence  of  his  watch 
ful  enemy  could  ho  increase  his  stock.  The 
only  course  left  to  ensure  his  safety  was  by 
ridding  himself  of  hi*  formidable  neighbor. 
How  to  contrive  this,  however,  was  his  grand 
diiliuuliy. 

Ho  determined  to  trust  to  chance  and  Pro 
vidence,  which  uo  often  befriend  tho  brave 
soul ;  mid  to  a  lucky  shot.  Tho  reuson  that 
he  had  not  before  made  use  of  his  weapons 
wan,  tho  gloom  in  which  tho  animal's  position 
outside  the  firo  hud  enveloped  it,  and  tlio  un 
certainty  which  this  must  give  to  his  aim  ;  and 
Lincoln  had  not  been  ignorant  that  the  effect 
of  a  slight  wound  upon  most  wild  beasts  is  to 
incite  them  to  tho  most  suvogo  pilch  of  fury 
and  desperation* 

Ho  thought  a  rauraont  and  determined  to 
rihk  all  upon  one  grand  ha/urd.  Steadily 
raining  bis  pistol  ho  lired,  ho  fired— not  at  ilio 
animal,  but  over  his  head,  The  result  fully 
anHwered  his  hopes;  his  four-footed  friend 
ro^otoliis  fout,  startled  by  tho  flash  and  re 
port,  but  his  wrath  unexcited  by  a  wound, 
and  slowly  and  cautiously  advanced  as  close 
to  tho  tire  as  comfort  would  allow  ;  seemingly 
ben  tM  satisfying  himself  as  to  the  nature  of 
the  interruption. 

Now  was  tho  critical  moment ! 

Lincoln  waited  until  the  animal  wad  so  near 
that,  from  the  dark  shaggy  outline  of  his 
monstrous  body,  ho  could  see  tho  fierce  glit 
ter  of  two  burning  eves,  that  oulwhono,  in 
piercing  brilliancy,  liio  living  coals  of  the 
watch-fire. 

{Summoning  his  natural  nerve  and  self-pos 
session,  full  in  the  eye  ho  looked  the  infuri- 
ated  beast,  never  onco  removing  '.lis  steadfast 
gaze ;  while  slowly  he  lifted  his  second  pis- 


KIT  CARSON. 


77 


iol,  lifted  it  till  both  it  and  those  glowing  orbs 
met  in  tho  focus  of  that  unswerving  glance  ; 
a  light  finger  pressed  the  trigger,  and  again 
the  report  of  a  pistol  rang,  stunningly,  on  the 
air. 

An  unearthly  yell  followed  tho  flash,  a 
gurgling  Hound  succeeded  to  a  heavy  full,  and 
silence  wrapped  tho  camp. 

Only  for  u  moment  did  Lincoln  pause,  and 
then  tearing  away  a  portion  of  the  blazing 
wall,  sprang  outside  the  fiery  circle.  Ilia  fe 
rocious  enemy  had  fallen,  with  a  bullet  thro' 
tho  eye-bull,  sent  homo  to  the  brain. 

Drugging  tho  dead  body  of  the  bcnst  still 
closer  to  tho  fire-light,  its  slayer  bent  down 
to  examine  iho  enormous  carcase.  The  ani 
mal  that  ho  hud  slain  was  none  other  than  an 
immense  puma,  sometimes  termed  by  natu 
ralists  4  tho  American  Lion  !'  and  as  he  made 
tho  discovery,  ho  was  no  longer  surprised  at 
the  astonishing  strength  and  courage  it  had 
displayed. 

But  though  now  fairly  rid  of  the  puma, 
Lincoln's  foublcs  were  not  yet  ended. — 
When  morning  came,  with  it  came  also  tho 
distressing  knowledge  of  a  situation  as  novel 
as  it  was  embarrassing. 

He  was  nlonc  in  the  heart  of  a  wild  prairie 
with  no  particular  road  to  follow — deprived, 
by  death,  of  his  gtrde,  and  totally  ignorant  of 
tbe  route  he  was  now  left  to  pursue.  How 
ever,  he  was  but  a  few  days'  journey  from 
his  destination,  this,  undeniably  was  in  his  fa 
vor  ;  he  could  pursue  a  direct  course  for 
ward,  and  trust  to  Providence  and  his  own 
sagacity  to  guide  him. 

At  duybreak,  therefore,  after  a  hasty  meal, 
saddling  tho  horse  of  the  ill-fated  Indian — it 
was  his  own  that  had  perished  so  miserably  — 
he  furled  his  tent  and  placed  iton  the  back  of 
one  of  the  pack-horses,  re-loading  the  other 
beasts  of  burden  with  the  provisions, of  which 
he  had  yet  a  moderate  store  ;  then,  though 
wholly  unacquainted  i-ith  tho  route,  known 
only  to  his  guide,  tho  hunters  and  savages, 
sot  forward  with  a  stout  heart  in  the  direction 
of  tho  setting  sun. 

Halting  each  night  for  several  successive 
days,  singly  and  alone,  he  pitched  his  tent, 
secured  his  horses,  and  built  his  fire  ;  adopt 
ing  the  precaution  to  collect  an  ample  suffi 
ciency  of  fuel  to  last  till  the  morning  dawned 


— by  which  means  ho  took  care  to  guard  ef 
fectually  against  the  terrible  fate  to  which  his 
unfortunate  guide's  carelessness  had  subject 
ed  him. 

Thus  he  proceeded — and  always  journey 
ing  with  tho  sun,  westward,  which  he  argued 
must  bring  him,  sooner  or  later,  to  the  I'acific 
shore. 

Hut  at  length,  in  some  intricate  mountain 
passes  he  became  bewildered  ;  tho  seven  days 
journey  predicted  by  tho  guide,  on  tho  night 
of  his  death,  had  already  lengthened  ilscU  to 
twelve  ;  and  he  observed,  with  uneasiness, 
that  none  of  tho  natural  indications  of  the 
near  proximity  to  tho  ocean  were  to  bo  per 
ceived. 

1'artof  this  time  ha'l  been  taken  tip  in  tho 
threading  the  mazes  of  a  dense  pine  forest, 
from  which  ho  had  emerged  again  into  the 
serpentine  mountain  gorges,  and  after  three 
days  more  of  persevering  progress,  he  issued 
thence  upon  the  banks  of  a  river,  that  wound 
like  a  sivcr  thread  through  tho  highland 
scenery. 

'  TliK  Sacramento!  the  Sacramento!* 

Burst  with  a  thrill  of  joy  ecstatic  from  his 
breathless  lips,  for  he  deemed  it  the  precious 
waters  of  the  goldpn  El  Dorado. 

'  Joy  !  joy !— I  am  on  tho  boundaries  of  tho 
Gold  Region  1* 

But  suddenly  ho  halted — gazed  wildly,  fear- 
fully  around —  recoiled  from  tho  ppnrkling 
water,  as  if  it  had  been  a  poisoned  chalice. — 
lie  had  made  a  maddening  discovery. 

In  the  supposed  Sacramento  he  recognised 
the  same  river  he  had  forded  the  very  day  of 
tho  memorable  catastrophe,  moro  than  fifteen 
days  before  I 

The  stunning  truth  flashed  full  upon  him 
— ho  had  lost  his  way  among  the  mountains, 
followed  his  own  path  backward  through  the 
forest,  and  arrived  at  the  self-same  spot  1 
from  whence  he  ead  started,  full  a  fortnight 
previous  1 

4  Doomed — doomed  of  Heaven !  my  pro 
visions  exhausted,  my  way  hopelessly  lost — 
I  shall  die  in  the  wilderness  1'  moaned  the  de 
spairing  adventurer,  as  he  sunk  in  hopeless 
despondency  upon  the  mistaken  river's  side, 
in  sight  of  tho  deserted  watch-fire,  where  the 
hapless  Wampa  had  met  his  death,  and  the 
puma  had  perished  I 


78 


KIT  CARSON. 


Another  Thrilling  J'rairie  Adventurt—The 
Indians— The  Pursuit— Kit  Carson,  the 
Prince  of  the  Gold  Jfuntcra—The  Stra 
tagem  of  the  Savages, 

'But  who  that  chief?  his  name   on  every 

shore 
Is  fumed  line]  feared— they  a«k  and  know  no 

more.1  BYRON, 


NTIRELYuncon- 

scious  our  unfortunate 
friend  Lincoln  remain- 
cd,  for  how  long  a  time 
,  In!  know  not,  neither 
do  we  know  ;  and  but 
for  a  single,  unlooked 


for  incident,  it  is  more  than  probable  he  would 
have  awaited,  in  tlio  hopeless  inanition  of  de 
spair,  for  death  to  come  to  his  relief,  and  thus 
spare  him  the  horrors  of  an  existence  drugged 
out  in  all  the  tortures  of  slow  starvation. 

Providence,  whose  ways  are  ever  inscru 
table,  is  said  to  interpose  oftcnest  when  hope 
has  given  place  to  utter  despondency  ;  and 
yet,  in  the  present  instance,  that  interposition 
—if  interposition  of  Providence  it  was,  came 
iu  a  strange  shape  certainly. 

What  first  aroused  the  despairing  and  hope 
less  man  to  outward  objects  once  more,  was 
the  confused  sound  of  discordant  voices,  in 
termingled  in  a  strange  chorus  of  cries  and 
yells,  and  thehurriod  trampling  of  many  foet 
around. 

Suddenly  opening  his  eyes  to  the  light  and 
blinded  by  it  as  he  staggered  to  his  feet,  it 
was  fully  a  moment  before  he  could  see  any 
surrounding  objects  clearly.  But,  ere  he  did 
so,  a  yell,  so  wild,  so  shrill,  so  deafening  that 
it  almost  stunned  him,  broke  suddenly  on  his 
astonished  ears. 


Dashing  his  hands  instinctirely  across  his 
eyes  to  dinpol  the  mist  that  hung  before  them, 
he  sight  that  his  vision  the  next  Instant  took 
in,  caused  him  to  recoil,  with  a  bound,  from 
the  epot. 

Around,  on  every  side,  he  beheld  himself 
encircled  by  a  troop  of  wild  figures,  in  fan-  f 
tiiHtic  and  «avngo  costumes,  who  woro  dancing 
about  him  and  goMticuluting  with  every  algn 
of  furocioud  delight.     It  wu»  by  a  war  tribo 
of  Indians  that  he  was  surrounded;  and  the 
dreadful  veil   that  ho    had  just   heard,  was  ' 
the  thrilling    war-whoop    of  the   American 
Aborigines. 

It  was  uttered  just  as  ho  tottered  to  his  feet 
— for  the  Indian*,  it  loomed* from  IU'M  former 
motionless  and  prostrate  position,  had  Huppos* 
ed  him  dead.  Convinced  by  his  sudden  rise, 
of  their  mistake,  they  closed  up  with  fresh 
shouts  around  him,  completely  hemming  him 
in! 

Ho  had  seen  but  few  of  the  red  race,  and 
these  only  the  friendly  tribes  through  whose 
territory  ho  had  passed  on  the  Missouri  fron 
tier  ;  but  he  had  reiul  much  of  the  aboriginal 
character  and  habits,  and  he  knew  at  once, 
from  their  fantastic  dress  and  painted  faces, 
that  he  had,  unfortunately,  fallen  in  with  a 
war-party 

He  saw  that  it  was  with  a  savage  tribe,  un 
friendly  to  the  whites,  he  had  now  to  deal ; 
and  wan  aware  that  he  must  expect  the  worst. 
His  capture,  ho  believed,  would  be  but  the 
precursor  of  his  death ;  and  with  this  peril 
came  back  the  love  of  existence,  the  desire  of 
life. 

One  quick,  flashing  glance  he  sent  around 
him ;  his  heart  sunk  within  him  as  that  look 
took  in  the  score  of  savage  forms,  with  their 
deakly  weapons  and  war-paint,  encompassing 
him  as  in  a  net.  Escape,  it  was  evident  to 
him  was  impossible  ;  but  he  felt  convinced  his 
life  might  bo  for  the  present  safe,  that  ho 


KIT  CARSON. 


79 


would  only  be  reserved  for  his  final  doom, 
and  that  by  tortures  the  most  fearful. 

Ho  dctonuiucd,  therefore,  since  to  elude 
them  was  hopeless,  to  force  them  to  take  his 
life  at  once,  and  thus  by  a  sudden  und  speedy 
death,  avoid  the  tortures  which  otherwise 
would  be  iu  store  for  him. 

Thus  desperately  resolving,  just  us  nn  ngcd 
chief  advanced,  with  signs  of  amity,  from  the 
throng,  ho  waited  only  until  the  Indian  was 
within  a  few  feet  of  him,  then,  springing  sud 
denly  upon  him,  he  snatched  the  tomahawk 
from  his  belt,  and  dashing  swiftly  past  the 
surprised  old  man,  cut  hix  way,  in  a  single  in 
stant,  through  the  startled  savages,  who  im 
mediately  gave  way  before  the  whirling 
hatchet,  winch  took  them  completely  un 
awares. 

The  living  wall  was  broken  as  if  by  magic 
and  Lincoln  darted  beyond  the  group  that 
surrounded  him,  und  lied  with  a  fleet  foot 
down  the  course  of  the  river  which  he  had 
mistaken  for  the  Sacramento. 

The  Hying  man  looked  behind  him  ;  and  a 
score  of  sinewy  forms  were  in  pursuit,  and  n 
Hcoro  of  barbed  arrows  were  drawn  to  tho 
head.  Internally  he  blessed  Ileuvcn  for  it — 
it  was  the  death  he  sought. 

Uut  the  same  Heaven  willed  it  otherwise. 
The  voice  of  the  old  chief,  who  had  been  so 
daringly  despoiled  of  his  tomahawk,  was  now 
heard  calling,  in  a  peremptory  tone  to  his 
party. 

He  spoke  in  the  Indian  tongue,  words  in 
comprehensible  to  Lincoln  ;  but  the  latter 
conjectured  their  meaning,  when  a  second 
backward  glance  shewed  him  that  each  up 
raised  tomahawk  and  pointed  arrow  were 
lowered,  though  still  every  one  of  the  pursu 
ers  kept  on  upon  his  truck — their  object  was 
to  take  him  alive. 

He  knew  it,  he  saw  it — and  in  the  same 
breath  determined  that  it  should  noi  be.  On, 
on,  along  the  river's  margin  he  fied — on,  still 
on,  until  he  should  come  to  u  convenient  spot 
for  the  execution  of  his  purpose  ;  while  on 
ward,  likewise  onward,  yet  faster,  and  each 
moment  gaining  on  him,  came  the  yelling  In 
dians. 

He  saw  that  he  was  losing  ground  and  soon 
must  be  overtaken.  Suddenly  ho  paused — 
halted — turned  on  the  riverside;  hit  pursu 
ers  uttered  a  simultaneous  shout  of  triumph  ; 
they  believed  he  was  about  to  surrender — 
they  were  deceived. 

Oac  bold,   headlong  plunge,  one  reckless 


leap  from  tho  brink  of  the  stream,  and  tho 
pursued  dived  benrath  tho  water,  and  ten 
feet  from  tho  spot,  reappeared  upon  the  sur 
face, 

Tho  reader  will  havo  anticipated,  already, 
his  purpcsc.  It  was  to  swim  the  river  as  long 
as  exhausted  nature  would  allow,  nnd  then 
perish  by  drowning  rather  than  fall  into  their 
hauls  ! 

One  after  another,  full  n  dozen  of  tho  In 
dians  plunged  into  the  stream  after  the  fugi 
tive.  They  were  accustomed  to  the  eh  ment 
nnd  swam  like  ducks,  in  comparison  with  the 
latter,  who  was  impeded  by  his  heavy  clothes 
and  though  a  skillful  swimmer,  made  but  in- 
dill'ercnt  progress. 

Still,  he  had  greatly  the  start  of  then,,  and 
having  succeeded,  by  a  dexterous  manoeuvre 
in  freeing  himself  of  his  cumbrous  boots,  he 
held  his  way  steadily  for  no  inconsiderable 
distance.  Nevertheless,  he  swam  under  fear 
ful  disadvantages,  and  tho  most  active  of  his 
pursuers  was  coining,  at  every  stroke,  closer 
upon  him. 

He  redoubled  his  exertions,  ho  strained 
every  nervo  ;  the  foremost  savjigo  was  within 
his  length  of  him — could  almost  touch  him. 
Complj'.ely  exhausted,  incapable  ot  further 
exertion,  the  hunted  swimmer  threw  up  his 
arms,  gave  one  last  look  to  Heaven,  and 
then  sunk  beneath  the  surface,  just  as  the 
foremost  savage  reached  his  hand  to  seize 
him. 

The  waves  oi  the  river,  the  forest  around, 
echoed  to  the  sharp  crack  of  a  rifle,  and  the 
foremost  pursurer  rolled  a  corpse  upon  his 
back. 

Ere  the  death-yell  of  the  slain  Indian  had 
been  borne  on  the  breath  of  the  wind  past  the 
savages  in  his  rear,  there  was  a  deep-voiced 
hurrah  from  the  opposite  bank,  and  then  a 
sudden  splash,  as  the  form  of  a  man  plunged 
headforemost  into  the  river,  and  swam  under 
water  to  the  scene  of  the  blood  crimsoned  wa 
ters,  escaping  by  this  means  the  shower  of 
arrows  that  darkened  the  air,  discharged  at 
him  from  the  shore  on  which  the  larger  por 
tion  of  the  savajres  had  remained  ;  but  who, 
on  the  death  of  the  foremost  of  the  pursuing 
swimmers,  with  yells  of  vengeance,  also  took 
the  water,  to  the  aid  of  their  comrades,  tho 
old  chief  following  last. 

The  next  moment  the  man  whose  shot  had 
been  the  Indian's  death  warrant,  was  visible 
for  an  instant  at  tho  surface,  aa  he  rose  for 
air,  with  the  exhausted  form  of  the  half- 


60 


KIT  CARSON. 


drowned  Lincoln  in  his  rmn«,nnd  then  boldly 
and  utoutly,  with  hi*  burden  skillfully  nuiutn- 
cd,  struck  out  for  the  neighboring  shore, — 
reached  it,  and  laid  the  fellow-being  he  had 
saved  on  the  sod. 

Gasping,  in  partial  itrnngulation,  for  a  mo 
ment  or  two,  the  poor  youth  wn«  scarce  con 
scious  until  ho  felt  its  rostomtivo  properties, 
ihut  u  draught  of  brandy  titul  boon  poured,  by 
the  sarno  friendly  hand,  down  his  throat;  the 
invigorating  effect,  however,  was  immediate, 
and  by  n  strong  effort  ho  rose  staggering  to 
his  fcot,  still  struggling  for  air  and  breath  to 
ejaculate,  brokenly, — 

•Who — who  uro  you,  kind  sir?  God — 
Cod  blwNH  you  1  You — you  hnvu  saved  my 
life.1 

Ilo  had  but  time  to  see  that  his  gallant 
preserver  was  a  rnun  of  powerful  proportions 
and  Herculean  stature,  dressed  in  the  rudu 
deer  skin  suit  of  a  western  hunter,  when  a 
grasp  of  the  nriii  from  his  Heaven  sent  friend 
called  his  intension  to  tho  river  and  the  foe, 
from  death  by  both  of  which  he  had  been  so 
marvellously  reprieved. 

He  hoard,. too, tho  voice  of  tho  hunter,  in 
a  clear,  full  tone,  with  its  frontiormnn'a  ac 
cent, — 

'  See,  stranger  ;  there  tho  red  devils  come. 
Take  another  pull  at  tho  liquor,  and  keep  a 
keen  cyo  ahead — you'll  need  both  soon  The 
critters  are  after  us,  there's  no  mistuko.  Ilolu 
my  powder  horn  for  mo,  stranger,  while  I 
jest  pick  off  a  couple  of  these  infarnal  var 
mints,  with  Old  Sacramento  !' 

And  as,  in  this  easy,  unconcerned  way,  ho 
spoke,  true  to  his  word,  he  levelled  his  riflo 
nt  one  of  the  advancing  Ravages,  now  nearly 
abreast  in  tho  midlo  of  the  river,  and  rapid* 
ly  making  for  the  shore  where  stood  the  hun 
ter ;  who,  marking  his  victim,  with  unerring 
aim,  fired. 

Tho  next  instant  was  tho  savage's  last,  and 
tho  waters  of  tha  peaceful  river  were  crim 
soned  with  tho  life-blood  of  a  second  red  man 
Tho  rifle  of  the  stout  hunter  was  double  bur- 
barrelled,  and  immediately  turning  tho  muz 
zle  on  n  third  foo,  ho  discharged  tho  remain 
ing  bullet  with  the  sumo  dendly  effect  of  their 
predecessors. 

The  Indians,  yelling  like  no  many  demons, 
infuriated  at  tho  death  of  their  three  ill-fated 
comrades,  eager  to  avenge  their  doom, strain 
ed  every  sinew  to  reach  tho  bank,  but  the 
river  was  wide,  tho  hunter's  eye  was  quick, 
and  his  bullet  ever  true. 


Loading  and  reloading,  flgnln  and  ngnin, 
with  the  wonderful  oolority  of  long  experience 
one  after  another,  he  picked  off  seven  more 
of  the  howling  savages,  coolly  reserving  hii 
fire,inench  instance,  until  the  breast  of  tho 
intended  victim  wai,  nt  every  other  moment 
rained,  in  tho  act  of  respiration,  above  tho 
mirfiu'p,  when,  ntrait  to  tho  expound  mark,  ore 
ngnin  it  wan  Hiibiriorgod,  in  making  tho  for 
ward  stroke,  tho  eagle  eye  and  sure  hand 
sent  the  lead  quivering  home. 

Tho  skill,  tho  cool  courage,  tho  inflexible 
resolution  of  the  strange  hunter,  filled  the  ex- 
cited  Lincoln  with  admiration  and  surprise, 
lie  could  heiiroe,  believe  bin  HCHNCR  as  ho  be* 
held,  one  by  one,  the  numbers  of  the  unvngcM 
thinned  so  rapidly,  and  heard  the  mournful 
lamentations  of  the  survivors  over  their  fallen 
braves,  and  tlu'n  tho  well-nigh  superhuman 
howls  of  hate  and  vengeance  that  followed 
as  they  struggled  yet  more  desperately  to  gain 
the  shore,  winch  the  nearest  had  now  neatly 
reach nd. 

4  Ilark'ye,  stranger,'  cried  tho  deep  voice 
of  the  hunter,  hurried,  'in  a  minute  more 
wo  nhull  Imvo  tho  pesky  red-skins  on  us. — 
Tho  born  devils  swim  like  sea  otters — their 
turn  in  coining  now — an  1  what's  more,  they 
know  it.' 

4  Ha  !'  cried  Lincoln,  '  in  there  noway  of 
escape  ?' 

Hut  ere  there  was  time  for  an  answer  the 
most  brief,  a  tomahawk  was  eeen  whizzing 
through  tho  air,  as  the  first  Indian  gained  the  ' 
dry  land,  passing,  with  fearful  rapidity  close 
to  the  head  of  tho  hunter,  who  had  coolly 
bent  his  neck  nshe  marked  the  enemy's  pur 
pose  and  saw  the  murderous  missile  flashing 
in  the  sunlight,  suffering  it  pass  by,  where, 
but  lor  the  sudden  movement  it  would  have 
brained  him. 

4  Quick  !  quick  I  look  to  your  pistols,  sir,' 
shouted  the  intended  \ictim  of  the  iron  mes 
senger,  as  ho  dropped  his  purposed  murderer 
dead  on  the  bank,  up  which  tho  Indians  were 
scrambling. 

1  Quick,'  he  added, '  and  I  hope  your  pis 
tols  will  stand  you  in  as  good  stead  as  Old  Sa 
cramento  here.' 

And  clubbing  his  good  rifle  as  he  epoke,  ho 
swung  it  with  gigantic  force  twice  round  his 
head,  and  then,  with  a  wide  sweep  of  tho  pon 
derous  butt  to  and  fro  right  in  their  midst,  he 
scattered  the  savages,  stunned  and  bleeding, 
likechalff  before  his  iron  arm. 

The  Indians  gave  back  a  moment  in  con- 


KIT  CARSON. 


fusion,  evidently  astonished  at  the  extraordi 
nary  bravery  and  strength  their  powerful  an 
tagonist  had  displayed.  This  momentary 
wavering  was  an  advantage  which  the  hunter 
did  not  fail  to  improve. 

*  Back,  back,  for  your  life  !  Get  behind  the 
trees,'  rang  in  Lincoln's  ear,  while  he  felt  him- 
self  drawn  backward. 

yielding  to  the  impulse,  he  at  the  same  in 
stant  lifted  his  heavy  horse  pistol,  levelled  it 
in  the  direction  of  the  savages,  and,  as  he 
found  himself  dragged  behind  the  shelter  of  a 
great  oak,  saw  an  Indian  bound  into  the  air, 
then  bite  the  dust. 

The  latter  paused,  as  if  in  deliberation  ; 
the  voice  of  the  ugcd  chief,  who  had  been  the 
last  to  gain  the  spot,  was  heard  among  them  ; 
and  hunter  and  traveller,  from  their  tempo 
rary  shelter,  could  observe  the  savages  in  loud 
vociferation. 

The  hunter's  grasp  tightened  on  Lincoln's 
arm, — 

1  They're  taking  counsel,  stranger,  what's 
best  to  be  done.  Hark  !  I  know  their  onna- 
t'ral  tongue.  They  want  to  tomahawk  us  on 
the  spot — but  the  old  chief  says  no — we  must 
bo  taken  alive.  I  suspicions  why,  stranger — 
but  keep  close — we  may  see  our  way  out  o' 
this  yet.' 

1  My  noble  fellow,  why,  in  the  first  place 
peril  your  life  to  save  mine  ?'  • 

The  other  looked  at  him  almost  indignantly 
as  he  said, — 

'  What !  d'ye  think  I'd  see  a  man  murder 
ed  by  n  legion  o'  red  skins,  and  not  move  a- 
hand  or  foot  to  help  him?  No,  no,  stranger, 
not  while  my  name's humph  !'  and  he  in 
stantly  checked  himself.  '  I  mustn't  let  them 
red  devils  hear  that — they'd  skin  me  alive,  if 
they  only  guessed  it,  1  reckon.  I've  seen  a 
much  worse  strait  than  this,  mnny  a  time  in 
my  life  ;  all  I  care  for  is  Ed'ard— if  he's  safe 

it's  |itt|e  I ' 

'  Carson — Carson  !  for  God's  sake  beware  ! 
Treachery !'  shouted  a  voice  that  caused 
both  to  turn,  as  if  at  a  serpent's  sting,  their 
startled  looks  behind. 

Directly  in  the  hunter's  rear,  not  six  feet 
from  his  back,  creeping  stealthily  along  thro' 
the  thin  brushwood  upon  his  hands  and  knees, 
a  gaunt  Indian  met  the  eye  that 'was  turned 
too  suddenly  upon  him  to  allow  a  change  of 
posture  ere  he  was  perceived. 

But  the  keen  glance  of  jthe  hunter,  only  on 
instant  resting  on  him,  seemed  to  be  anxious- 


y  seeking  out  some  second  object  in  the  back 
ground,  behind  the  crouching  savage ;  and  the 
moment  was  seized  upon  by  the  latter,  with 
the  alertness  of  hi  *  race,  to  spring  from  his 
crawling  attitude,  at  one  long  bound,  on  tho 
apparently  unguarded  man,  with  hunting, 
knife  upraised. 

The  very  instant  that  it  flashed  in  the 
broad  light  above  that  massive  chest  tho  re 
port  of  a  gun-shot  echoed  along  the  reverbe 
rating  atmosphere,  and  as  the  treacherous  as 
sailant  fell  a  dead  man  at  tho  hunter's  feet, 
with  the  assassin's  knife  still  grasped  in  hia 
hand,  the  light  form  of  a  youth,  with  a  Spanish 
carbine  in  his  hand,  leaped  across  the  lifeless 
body  and  threw  himself  upon  tho  neck  of  the 
frontiersman,  exclaiming, — 

1  Thank  God  1  my  friend,  my  noble  bene 
factor,  I  was  in  time  to  save  your  precious 
life.' 

1  Ila  !  it  was  you,  then,  Edward  ? — the 
voice  was  your  o\vn  ?'  ejaculated  the  hunter, 
as  he  returned,  with  more  than  manly  fervor, 
the  embrace  of  the  youth.  '  I  am  sorry,  very 
sorry,  boy,  that  you  have  exposed  yourself  to 
hazard,  by  coming  hither  at  this  time.  1  was 
thanking  my  stars  a  moment  ago,  boy,  that 
you  were  not  by  my  side  when  I  fell  in  with 
those  yelling  red-skins  yonder — that  you,  at 
all  event?,  were  out  of  harm's  way — and  the 
first  thing  I  know,  here  you  at?..' 

4  But  you  were  in  danger,  dear  Carson ! — 
how  could  I  stay  V  urged  the  boy,  earnestly. 
'  True,  you  left  me  at  our  camp  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  distant,  to  find  a  t'eer  for  our  supper  ; 
but  1  heard  the  repeated  tiring,  and  1  thought 
something  must  have  happened  you.  1  knew 
the  Pawnees  were  prowling  around,  and  if 
the  hunters  had  not  been  all  gone  *>om  the 
camp  in  search  of  the  Indians,  I  should  have 
brought  them  along;  I  co'ild  not,  would  not 
stay — luckily  the  rire  guided  me  hither  m 
season  to  slay  your  enemy.  O  my  God  !— 
O  my  God  !  it  is  the  first  human  blood  on  my 
hands!' 

And  the  young  boy,  with  a  tremulous  voice 
and  a  shuddering  of  the  frame,  turned  away 
his  head,  and  leaned  it  on  the  shoulder  of  the 
hunter,  who  was  seen  by  Eugene  tao  dash- 
manly  tear  from  his  eye,  as  though  ashamed 
of  the  emotion,  while  he  ejaculated  in  a  moved 
tone, — 

1  Bless  you,  my  boy,  bless  you  1' 
But  the  boy  seemed  not  easily  calmed,  for 
twice  he  was  heard  repealing,  in  trembling 
tones, — 


KIT  CARSON. 


1 0  my  God !  tho  Tint  human  blood  I  ever 
shod,' 

4  You  nre  m'mtukon,  brave  boy,  you  nre 
mistaken,'  MJd  Lincoln,  with  an  nir  of  some 

surprise.  '  It  win  my  own  bull  thiit  Hlew  tho 
savugo.  I,  too,  saw  tho  wretch  und  fired,'—- 
and  In;  held  up  liis  second  pistol,  cvidontty 
just  discharged,  '  It  wui  my  weapon  which 
look  his  lifo.1 

•  Impo.siblo  ?'  said  tho  boy,  tremulously,  ns 
ho  pointed  to  hi*  still  smoking  carbine  ;  '  and 
yot,  would  to  I  feu vcit  it  were  HO,  I  would  not 
have  thn  blood  of  ii    follow- Ix-ifij,',  upon  thcna 
IwwN,  cvon  when  tiuon  in  n  just  cause.     O. 
would  it  wcro  tnii! !  hut  no;  HOC  hero  is  tho 
path  of  my  bullet  through  the  buck  of  his  neck 
— it  M  too  wido  to  bo  iniulo  by  a  pistol-bull — 
tilns  I  it  is  my  work  1' 

1  And  yot,'  said  Lincoln,  bonding  down  5 
4  my  own  shot !  it  Huroly  ditl  not  miss  ?  and — 
ha!  hero  is  the  very  bull,  buried  in  tho  flo»h 
of  tho  -sho  ildur — 1  know  it  struck  the  murk, 
though  my  foot  dipped,' 

'  Mistaken  !  mistaken  both  of  you  !'  cried 
tho  hunter,  with  n  smile,  as  ho  turned  upward 
tho  fuco  and  chest  of  the  corpse,  and  display 
ed  a  knifu  buried  up  to  tho  hilt  in  tho  breust 
of  tho  deiid  wigugu,  while  he  Rpurned  tho  gory 
body  with  his  foot  '  Flesh-wounds  both,  are 
those  bullet  holes  ol  yours,  my  good  friends  ; 
but  what  do  you  think  of  thin  stout  blade— 
rijrht  to  tho  red-skin's  heart  ? 

*  And  BO,  tho  sneaking  critter  thought  to 
take  mo  unawares,  did  ho?'  he  added,  as  ho 
marked  tho  wondering  nstonishment  of  both, 
on  perceiving  that  tho  seemingly  unprepared 
hunter  hud  been  fully  on  the   watch,  nnd  in 
readiness  for  the  leap  of  tho  treacherous  foo  ; 
when   a  trapper  loirns  to   catch  a   weaslo 
asleep,  then  a  pesky  rek-skin  may  stand  a 
sort  of  uhuncu  of  taking  Kit  Civrson  off  his 
guard— not  till  then  !' 

1  Kit  Canon  !  Kit  Carson ."  ejaculated 
Eugene,  starting  violently,  *  Is  it  possible 
that  you  are  that  famous  hunter  and  explorer 
of  tho  fur  west?  Do  I  indeed  see  Kit  Car- 
*cw,  tho  pruirie-rangor,  tho  scout,  tho  gold- 
discoverer? — with  whnso  namo  tho  Union 
rings?' 

»Fc*  nnd/io,  stranger  I  You  do  BCO  Kit 
Carson—  plain  Kit  Carson,  mind  you !'  re- 
joined  tho  honest  hunter,  with  a  good-humor 
ed  smile,  and  a  countenance  as  calm  and 
(pilot,  an  if  that  namo  were  not  famous  from 
one  end  of  tho  land  to  tho  other,  from  the  Pa 
cific  to  tho  Atlantic  coast,  '  Plain  Kit  Ctr- 


ion,  and— but  thin  IN  no  time  forward*,  with 
a  whole  troop  of  Injuns  around,  thirsting  for 
our  lives— wo  must  act—t\\\  on  IH,  stranger, 
now,1 

Ilurtlly  had  the  luat  words  left  tho  lips  of 
the  gullunt  hunter,  when  a  terrific  wnr*wlu>op 
echoing  from  a  hundred  throats,  npparently 
burst  from  the  Indians  in  front  of  tho  shelter 
ed  little  puny, 

It  was  aguin  nnd  again  repeated,  almost  in 
cessantly,  and  the  suvnges  were  seen  dancing 
and  leaping,  und  making  every  variety  of 
IIO'INO  with  their  feet,  humi*,  nnd  voices,  but 
making  HO  movement  towards  an  nssuult  from 
tho  stand  they,  hud  taken  when  drivdn  buck 
to  tho  shore. 

Tho  boy  I'M  ward  nnd  Lincoln  looked  be- 
wililorcd,  and  confounded  by  the  unearthly 
din  which  italfonod  their  earn,  Cnrs^n  ad* 
vaiicud  a  ^tcp,  hulled,  his  lynx-like  rye  went 
flashing  round,  with  u  quick,  uneasy  glance, 
and  oneo  he  raised  his  stalwart  arm  aloft  and 
shook  it  nngril). 

*  Heavens  and  earth,1  nervously  ejaculated 
tho  hunter,  for  tho  first  time  seeming  to  lose 
a  portion  of  his  habitual  imperturbable  cool 
ness  ;  '  what  new  devi'try's  afoot,  now  ? — 
Those  red  rascals  arc  not  making  all  this  tar- 
mil  racket  for  nothing,  That  whispering  and 
chattering  of  theirs,  just  now,  wait  not  for 
nothing ! 

'  Just  sco  lulu,  stranger,'  and  ho  clutched 
both  luVcomrudes  nervously  by  tho  arm,  onco 
more.  '  They  sent  this  dead  carrion,  under 
foot  here,  in  the  first  pluce,  jiut  for  nothing 
else  in  the  world,  but  to  draw  ofl1  our 'tentiou 
from  soul  ruscully  trick  they're  going  to  play 
on  us ' 

4  Will  they  again  attack  us  ?'  inquired  Lin 
coln, 

4  They  don't  attack  us  jest  now,  d'ye  see, 
stranger,  'cause  they  want  to  take  us  alive, 
and  don't  want  to  loso  any  more  o'  their  men ; 
but  they've  not  given  us  up  yet,  I  kin  tako 
my  bible  oath  o'  that,  I  knows  the  Injuns, 
o"ory  inch  of  them  !  and  a  m  «nstrous  trickoy 
sot  thoy  ur',  that's  Martin.  Depend  upon  it, 
there's  somo  mischief  brewing  wo  don't  ex 
pect,  nnd  that's  what  makes  mo  uneasy  about 
it  Only  iost  hoar  how  tho  critter  take  on, 
and  how  tnoy  keep  it  up — it's  like  Hcdlam 
broke  loose.1 

The  unacoountablo  uproar  continued-— tho 
stamping  and  shouting  was,  in  tact,  absolutely 
itunningi 

Tho  hunter  had  been  forced  to  spenk  in  a 


KIT  CARSON. 


loud  pitch  of  voice  to  make  himself  heard  at 
all  by  his  companions  ;  but  it  was  evident,  by 
the  increased  confusion,  that  the  hideous  con 
cert  of  discordant  voices  had  now  reached 
its  climnx,  as  if  that  moment  was  the  secret 
crisis  of  the  unknown  stratagem  in  play.  The 
keen-witted  Carson  immediately  took  his  clue 
from  it. 

1  It's  a  puzzle — it's  past  my  comprehension 
quite,'  he  commenced  to  say,  when  u  sudden 
idea  seemed  to  strike  him,  causing  him  most 
abruptly  to  change  his  tone,  ejaculating, — 
'  Aha  !  I  thought  at  first  it  was  only  to  take 
oflfour  attention  ;  it  may  be  so  in.  part,  but 
depend  on  it,  it's  to  drown  some  other  noise 
that  they've  set  up  this  din.  By  Heaven ! 
what  if » 

If  it  was  a  suspicion  of  the  truth  that  sud 
denly  flashed  across  the  hunter's  mind,  it  came 
too  late  ! 

There  was  a  creaking  among  the  boughs 
of  the  overhanging  trees — a  sharp  crashing 
of  the  branches  overhead,  and  then,  from  the 
umbrageous  ambush,  the  wiry  form  of  a  fall* 
ing  savage,  descended  upon  the  head  of  the 


hunter  below,  bearing  the  gallant  foe  beneath 
him,  to  the  earth  ! 

Another  and  another  followed,  self-pre 
cipitated  from  thestiperincumbent  trees,  until 
the  forms  of  Carson's  two  companions  lay  in 
sensible  beside  the  fallen  huntsman,  with  the 
triumphant  Indians  hooting  in  exultation  over 
them. 

The  stratagem  was  manifest — a  hall  dozen 
of  the  most  active  savages,  skirting  a  corner 
of  the  wood,  until  quite  out  of  sight,  had  then 
climbed  up  by  the  branches  from  the  ground, 
and  swinging  by  the  boughs,  crept  along 
from  tree  to  tree  till  they  reached  the  tower- 
j  ing  pines  beneath  the  spreading  foliage  of 
which  and  behind  its  huge  trunk  Carson  and 
his  companions  had  found  refuge — thence  to 
leap  upon  the  unsuspecting  prey  below.  The 
Babel-like  tumult  from  the  more  distant  In 
dians,  designed,  of  course,  to  drown  the  rust 
ling  of  the  leaves  and  the  snapping  sound  of 
the  brittle  twigs,  which  would  otherwise  have 
betrayed  the  purpose  of  their  confederates 
and  their  serpent-like  progress  through  the 
crackling  tr^e  tops. 


I 


81 


KIT  CARSON. 


sir. 


Kit  Carton  and  his  Littlt.  Band  at  tht 
Mrrcy  of  the  Savages—The  Wigwam— 
The  Deadly  Revenge—  The  Escape  from 
one  Danger  to  meet  with  Another. 


ptlvlty  I  0  bitter,  bitter  fate  I 
it  thou  nu'er  thy  hatred  nut*/' 


OUND  and  shocked,  In 
rudo  wigwam,  at  a 
to  hour  of  UIM  night 
r  which  that  eventful 
[day  was  noon  succeed- 
,  lay   tho  throe  cap- 
lives  of  thti  Indians,  HO 
*truni{»'ly  mudo  their  pr'monern- 

Soveral  hourri  hud  elapsed  him!"  tho  event* 
ful  moment  which  hud  terminuled,  BO  abrupt 
ly,  so  long  and  resolute  a  struggle,  This  in* 
torval  of  time  had  been  employed  by  tho  cup- 
tors  in  Hccuring  thoir  prisoner*,  binding  them 
to  the  swift-fouled  Indian  nonios  of  thu  tribe, 
and  then  Hotting  oil1  ui  it  Mlntrp  muter  in  tho 
direction  of  thoir  inlundud  uncumpmont,  anvii- 
rul  nulos  distant  from  tho  nccne  of  the  ad- 
vcnturo  which  hud  resulted  MO  disantrously 
for  thovj  in  whoHo  Hufety  wo  uro  must  con* 
oi-rnnd. 

Hampered  and  fettered  u  they  were,  Ctr- 
aon,  with  his  two  comrades  in  captivity,  found 
themselves  crowded  together  in  the  little  wig- 
w'am,  upon  a  promiwuoui  pilo  of  skins,  und 
guarded,  outtiido  thu  lodgo  by  two  gaunt  wav- 
1,  but  Icttfur  tho  prenetit  wholly  to  them- 


rurtunutuly  fur  the  brief  und  hurried  con* 
Bultuliun  which  fulluwi'il  between  them,  uit 
•oonuK  their  uuutturcd 


ly  recovered, 

They  had  not  been  gagged  ;  And  Lincoln 
was  tho  first  to  any,— 

'  We  arc,  then  in  the  power  of  the  In 
dians?' 

The  hunter,  who  seemed  to  have  been 
buried  in  a  deep  reverie,  and  now  tor  the 
flrMt  timo  unoku,  rulMud  hli  hond  thoughtfully 
and  rttpll(Ml,<— 

1  Wo  »r',  itrnnger,  mid  ut  the  tho  mtircy  of 
lift  bloody  u  net  of  rod  *kln*  UN  IN  to  bo  mnt 
witli  uuy  wluir'  on  tho  groat  prnlrSe*,—  iho 
Pawnco  IMcta  ;  born  devil*  from  thoir  mo- 
thcrM1  brcuHts.  They're  tho  crudest,  tho  MIV- 
agent,  must  unfeeling  tribe  between  the  Rocky 
Mountain*  and  tho  1'ncilie—  thu  Wandering 
PiclB,  wo  hunters  call  'em.  Wo  uro  ut  onp 
of  their  viltugcit  now  ;  und  but  little  good  it 
limlcs  UH.' 

'  Ha  I'  exclaimed  Kiiynii',  '  huvo  you  any 
idea  of  tho  f'ato  to  which  wo  uro  dohtinod  by 
our  (.upturn  ?' 

Thu  huutcr  turned  his  oycn,  an  well  aa  ho 
could,  in  his  vhackled  state,  with  an  cxprcs- 
hion  of  Murjiri.io  ut  tho  oihur'h  ignornnco,  UN  ho 
rcplitid,— 

'  Y<'«,  utraniu'cr,  and  rnnro'n  thn  pity,  If  we 
live  until  to-morrow,  und  contino  in  their 
power,  we  nhi.ll,  most  probably,  bo  burned 
nlivo.' 

1  Almlfflity.Pttlwr  I'  uttered  Lincoln,  in  life 
horror,  Then  ho  ([uickly  added,  —  '  You  muMt 
be  mistaken—  they  cotdd  not  be  guilty  of  Nuch 
barlmrity,' 

Again  Curannflmilod,  —  one  of  his  moaning 


1  Stranger,  for  your  nnl<o,  and  tho  Hake  of 
(hut  poor  buy,  there,  I  wi«h  I  wan  m'mtukon/ 
lie  auid,  pointing  to  tho  1ml,  Kdward,  &\\  whom 
thn  hard  UNiigo  of  thn  Indianx  loomed  U)  hnvo 

hml  moro  lasting  cllect,  than  on  hi*  older  nnd 
hnrdier  cotnpiitiiuny,     '  JJut  I  know  the  Paw* 


KIT  CARSON. 


nees  well,  nnd  Kit  Carson  knows  what  to  ex 
pect.  This  is  a  regular  war-party  of  the  red 
skins,  and  I  "ee  by  their  lack  of  scalp?,  they 
have  but  lately  set  out,  and  so  we  happen  to 
be  about  the  first  game  they've  fallen  in  with, 
which  is  not  in  our  favor,  that's  sartin.  My 
haulers  were  all  out  on  a  scout  after  these 
same  critters,  for  we  got  wind  they  war"  in 
the  neighborhood,  or  we  should  have  had 
help.' 

'  And  no  doubt,'  said  Lincoln,  '  our  deter 
mined  resistance  still  farther  exasperated 
them.' 

'  No  damage  done  tbar,  stranger,'  said  the 
hunter  in  reply.  *  If  we'd  turned  tail  and 
run,  and  not  fought  'em  like  m">n,  they'd 
have  cut  us  down  and  scalped  us  on  the  spot, 
RS  if  we  had  been  so  many  dogs.  Hut  wo  stood 
our  ground,  d'ye  see,  and  shewed  'em  our 
trelh  with  a  will,  and  that  made  the  rascals 
more  anxious  to  take  us  alive,  that  they  might 
make  us  the  heroes  of  a  war-dance,  as  they 
mean  to  do — it's  an  honor  they  never  allows 
to  a  coward.' 

*  A  war-dance  ?'  echoed  Lincoln,  inquir 
ingly. 

'A  war-dnnce — yes.  What!  didn't  you 
ever  hear  of  an  Injun  war-dnnce,  stranger  T 
Well,  it's  my  opinion  you'll  know  more  of  it 
to  your  sorrow,  if  we're  in  this  wigwam  to 
morrow  morning!' 

And  the  experienced  hunter  proceeded  to 
explain  to  Lincoln  that  strange  and  terrible 
rite,  common  to  most  savage  tribes  of  iho 
wilderness  in  which  captives  noted  for  their 
courageous  resistance  or  habitual  bravery, 
are  sacrificed  to  the  Indian  deity  by  the  most 
horriblu  of  deaths, — the  stake — by  burning  at 
\hc  sfike. 

'  Great  God  !  dear  Carson,  can  we  do  no 
thing?  breathlessly  interposed  the  young  boy 
Kdward,  '  nothing  to  avert  so  barbarous  an 
end  ?' 

*  Yes,  yes?'  replied  the  other,   with  a  mo 
ment's  emotion,  as  he  looked  affectionately 
at  the  trembling  lad  ;  '  yes,  my   boy,    if  Ki 
Carson's  wits  are  not  clean  gone  in  ore  day's 
time;  we're  not  roast-meat  for  the  rfd-skin 
yet,  nor  do  I  mean  that  we  shall  be,  so  long 

•  How!'  interrupted    Lincoln,  'are   we  to 
understand  you  that  there  is  the  slightest  pos 
sibility  ef escape  from  the  d.euiful  peril  the 
threatens  us  ?     Are  we  not  fairly  in  the  toils 
captives  in  their  very  camp,  fettered,  and  de 
prived  of  the  use  of  our  limbs— surrounded  on 


very  side  by  an  enemy,  powerful  as  they  are 
merciless  ?' 

1  True,  stranger,  true;  the  prospect  isn't 
>Icasant,  and  th«*  chances  ar  pretty  slim, 
here's  no  disputing  that  fact,  I'm  afeered. — 
Still,  while  there's  life  and  time,  the r's  hope  ; 
nd  I  don't  despair  yet,  by  any  manner  o' 
means.  To  be  sure,  here  we  ar,'  bound 
neck  and  heels  like  three  young  bear-cubs ; 
but,  stranger,' pursued  the  honest  hunter,  in 
a  determined  tone,  '  though  these  copper- 
colored  snakes  yonder  did  make  out,  for 
once,  to  get  a  leetle  ahead  o'  Kit  Carson's 
time,  with  one  o'  thnr  outlandish  contrivan 
ces,  the  same  thing  don't  happen  very  often, 
you  may  be  quite  sure;  and  whit's  more, 
they  haven't  seen  the  last  of  Kit  Carson  yet, 
ns  I  hope  the  cursed  crittcrs'll  diskiver  to 
their  cost. 

1  Now  mind  you,  both  on  ye,'  continued 
the  speaker,  more  markedly,  awhile  he  made 
a  sort  of  sliding  movement  with  his  body,  the 
only  motion  of  which  he  was  capable,  the 
more  emphatically  to  attract  their  attention. 
1  Out  o'  this  precious  scrape  I're  m«de  up 
my  mind  to  get  you,  if  there's  any  such  thing 
left  as  wit  in  a  'Alerikin  hunter.  But  don't 
forgit  to  remember,  Ed'ard,  and  you,  too, 
s  ranger,  whatever  happens  to-night,  not  to 
show  »ny  'stonishment  or  surprise,  though 
maybe  you  mought'nt  understand  it  all.  So,, 
mind  and  be  keerful,  and  don  t  speak,  only* 
when  I  speak  first,  you  understand  me  ?— - 
The  fust  thing  to  be  had,  howsomever,  is  a 
light ;  and  then ' 

4  A  light?1  repeated  Lincoln,  in  inquiring 
surprise. 

Hut  a  muttered  '  Hush  !'  from  the  hunter, 
sealed  his  lips,  and  he  lay  speechless  and  mo 
tionless. 

Suddenly,  to  his  infinite  astonishment,  a 
faint  moan,  proceeding  evidently  from  Car 
son's  lips,  saluted  his  ear,  followed  by  three 
or  four  deep  and  hollow  groans,  so  full  of 
seeming  anguish  and  natural  distpess,  thivt 
Lincoln,  completely  deceived,  would  unques 
tionably  have  started  up  in  apprehension,  if 
his  bonds  had  not  prevented. 

Their  attention  excited  by  these  sounds  of 
suffering  from  the  two  Pawnees,  who  had  been 
standing,  or  rather,  sitting  guard  before  the 
door  of  the  wigwam,  smoking  their  pipes  in 
true  Indian  taciturnity,  ceased  their  occupa 
tion,  somewhat  abruptly,  and  paused  to 
listen. 

'Jhe  moaning  from  the  interior  of  the  little 


KIT  CARSONJ 


prison  continued  at  momentary  intervals,  one 
instant  dying  faintly  away,  the  next,  swelling 
to  the  most  painful  intensity,  like  a  strong 
man  struggling  with  his  agony. 

The  two  Indians  arose  and  softly  entcrod 
the  lodge.  The  powerful  form  of  the  noble 
hunttT  was  scon,  a.*  they  advanced,  wrestling 
with  the  kc"'ii  [win  which  seemed  tocmiviftsc 
him,  and  his  features  appeared  contorted  with 
,  MlflttHflf. 

Lincoln  naw  the  Pawnees  oppronch  the 
groaning  hitntorand  scrutini/.o  him  closely,  as 
ilicy  hunt  over  him  ;  thru  ho  observed  the 
futturud  Canton,  endeavoring  tomako  himself 
understood  by  signs,  with  tho  fingers  of  hid 
manacled  hond,  mid  then  heard  him  also  ad 
dress  tho  Indians  iu  their  own  tongue,  as  h« 
conceived;  for  they  stood  consulting  together 
for  a  moment,  at  the  end  of  which  one  of 
them  left  he  cabin,  leaving  his  comrade  alone 
with  the  prisoners. 

Presently  he  returned,  bearing  a  little  water 
in  a  sort  of  hollow  gourd,  with  which  ho  stoop 
ed  down  and  bathed  tho  face  and  brow  of  the 
still  moaning  nullerer. 

It  seemed  to  revive  the  latter  greatly  ;  his 
groans  gradually  lessened,  and  he  became 
more  easy. 

Lincoln  heard  him  again  accost  the  two  in 
'the  Indian  dialect;  whereupon  the  one  who 
had  procured  tho  water  took  up  the  gourd, 
.and  prepared  to  quit  the  lodge,  while  the 
other  Pawnee,  removing  tho  pipe  from  his 
ow"n  mouth,  placed  it  between  iho  lipH  of  the 
distressed  man,  who  seemed  to  derive  imme 
diate  benefit  from  its  composing  influence,  for 
his  groans  ceased,  by  degrees,  altogether; 
seeing  which,  they  silently  retired,  leaving 
the  threo  captives  once  more  to  themselves. 

4  Hist!'  Lincoln  heard  the  deep  voice  of 
Carson  articulate,  scarce  above  his  breaih, 
'  speak  only  in  whispers.1 

'  What  have  you  done  ?  what  have  you  done?' 

ventured  Lincoln 

4  Nothing,  you  might  think ;  a  great  deal,  1 

think,'  was  tho  meaning  reply.     '  You  said,  I 

believe,  stranger,  that  all  your  weapons  were 

taken  from  you  ?' 

1  Yes;  they   stripped   me  of  everything/ 

was  tho  reply. 

'  And  you,  Edward ;  didn't  they  leave  you 

a  single  piece  of  cold  sleel  ?' 

•  Not  so  much  as  a  pocket-knife,  Cayon,' 
replied  the  boy,  in  a  low  and  silvery  tone  that 
struck  pleasantly  on  Lincoln's  ear. 

•  No  ?— I  suspected  as  much.    'Well,  then, 


here's  no  help  for  it,  and  I  must  trust  to  the 
pipe.' 

'  The  pipe,  Carson  !'  iterated  the  lad,— 
what  could  you  possibly  want  with  the  pipe, 
and  why  did  you  counterfeit  illness !' 

*  Why,  to  get  hold  of  the  pipe,  to  bo   sure, 
boy  ;  what  else  could  it  be  for  ?     Didn't  you 
see  me  ask  the  Injun  for   water,  just  as   a 
blind,  and  then  how  wistful  1  looked  at  the 
pipe  in  tho  Pawnee's  hand.     They're  'cuto 
creators,   those  red-skints    in  medicine  mat- 
tern, ami  know  well  enough  what  a  soothing 
I'llVct  Htnoking  has  on  bodily  allingn ;  n  pipo'n 
mi  Injun'n  pain-killer.  Now  thin  pipe  o*  their* 
is  JUKI  the  thing  that's  going  to  got  ux  out  of 
our  trouble,  and  neither  more  nor  less  !      h's 
not  tho  first  time  I've  cheated  a  Pawnee   by 
playing 'possum.' 

*  But  how  artfully  it  was  done!    said  Lin 
coln;  'and  how  natural  was  the  deception! 
Still,  F  don't  see ' 

'  What's  to  be  the  upshot,  stranger  ?  Very 
likely  j  but  depend  on  it,  I'll  soon  have  a  wo 
for  this  pipe  ;  mid  what  concerns  you  more, 
I  shall  want  your  help,  st-anger,  Hut  that 
won't  he  for  half  an  hour  yut ;  and  in  tho 
meanwhile,'  added  tho  speaker,  4 1  want  lo 
have  both  of  ye  keep  perfectly  still  nnd  quiet, 
and  when  I  need  either  of  you  I'll  yet  you 
know.  Ed'urd,'  he  continued  addressing  tho 
boy-companion  in  whom  ho  seemed  to  take 
much  interest,  nnd  speaking  in  almost  a  fa* 
tlu-rly  lone:  '  Ed'urd,  do  you  luy  your  head 
down  on  theso  b'ftf*sttini  and  take  a  half* 
hour's  nap  ;  you're;  young  and  dehkito,  and 
you'll  need  it ;  for  we've  got  a  long  tramp  of 
it,  when  we  get  out  o'  this  place.  And  you, 
stranger,  you'  better  try  nnd  get  a  li'.tle  sleep, 
too,  I'll  waken  you  when  I  want  you.' 

*  And  you,   dear   Carson,'   interposed  the 
tho  boy  Edward,  4  you  have    undergone  and 
endured  enough  to  bow   down   the  strongest 
man;  you,  too,  require  sleep  ;   you  must  not 
exhaust  yourself  further  for  my— for  our  sake, 
bravest  and  noblest  of  men.1 

'There,  there,  stop,  boy,  stop — don't  speak 
in  that  way,  don't,'  said  the  hardy  hunter, 
with  emotion  h6  bould  not  conceal.  *  Not 
another  word,  my  boy.,  not  another  word  !  I 
won't  hear  you  ;  go  to  sleep,  lad  ;  go  to 
sleep.  What's  a  little  rough  usage  to  a  man 
born  on  the  wild  pruirio  ?  Kit  Carson's  no 
city  dandy  to  faint  nt  tho  sight  of  a  little  dun- 
gcr,  or  to  need  as  much  sleep  as  a  boarding- 
school  miss.  There,  1  say,  don't  make  on- 
other  objection,  if  you  don't  want  mo  dow  n- 


KIT  CARSON. 


right  marl.  And  don't  make  me  talk  any  more 
— it's  hard  work  speaking,  with  a  pipe  in  a 
man's  mouth. 

The  gentle  boy  murmured  a  *  good  night,' 
and  with  nn  affectionate  look  at  his  hardy 
protector,  as  he  seemed  to  l>e,  closed  his 
eyes,  and  it  was  soon  evident  that  he  slept 
the  calm  deep  sleep  of  youth,  overcome  by 
excitement  and  fatigue. 

Lincoln  also  endeavored  to  resign  his  senses 
to  slu'nber,  but  it  was  in  vain  that  he  sought 
it.  lie  lay  perfectly  quiet,  hut  sleepless,  and 
watching,  by  the  moonlight,  the  countenances 
of  the  two  persons  whom  fate  hid  so  strange 
ly  made  h's  compnnions. 

Despite  the  restraint  of  the  crippling  con 
finement  to  which  the  helpless  hunter  was 
subjected,  despite  *.he  cruel  wisps  of  dried 
bark  which  secured  his  limbs  as  firmly  as  the 
strongest  manacles  of  iron  ;  the  silent  obser 
ver  was  struck  with  the  magnificent  propor 
tions  and  immense  muscular  power  of  the 
Herculean  man  before  him,  wnose  every 
nerve,  sinew  and  member  seemed  a  model 
of  perfect  strength  ,  n  combination  ol  elas 
ticity,  acility  and  inherent  might,  that  would 
have  done-honor  to  the  athteta:  of  the  Roman 
arena.  Yet,  notwithstanding  the  gigantic  sia- 
t'ire,  the  enormous  depth  of  chest,  the  muss- 
ivn  breadth  of  limb,  nil  were  cast  in  a  mould 
of  the  most  complete  symmetry,  with  each 
other. 

As  Lincoln's  gnze  scanned  the  face,  as 
well  ns  form,  and  marked  the  almost  kindly 
expression  of  that  broad  brow,  the  expanding 
nostril,  the  determined  mouth,  the  keen  and 
piercing  eagle's  eye,  he  felt  that  he  was  in 
the  presence  of  on  extraordinary  man  ;  onr 
destined,  from  his  birth  to  cope  with  difficul 
ties  and  obstacles  which  would  dishearten  and 
ovenvhel-n  a  common  spirit,  and  to  overthrow 
every  danger  and  every  impediment  by  the 
force  of  a  will  and  *  physique  such  as  were 
given  to  Washington  and  Napoleon. 

'  And  this — this  is  Kit  Carson,'  wns  the 
mental  ejaculation  of  Lincoln  ;  'the  wonder- 
derful  man  whose  hardihood  and  enterprise 
have  made  him  so  celebrated.  And  yet,  how 
honest,  how  frank,  how  manly.  And  ha  !  I 
h.ive  heard  that  of  his  character,  which  leads 
me  to  believe,  that  the  rough  manner,  the  un 
cultivated  speech,  apparently  peculiar  to  him, 
are  in  a  degree  assumed  ;  thai  he  in  his  youth 
received  the  benefits  of  a  good  education  and 
pood  society,  but  that  he  ever  loved  tho  wild 
delights  of  a  hunter's  life,  and  with  its  free- 


dom  and  iis  pleasures,  determined  to  adopt 
its  nlaiii  habits  and  plainer  mode  of  speech. — 
Yes  !  and  even  while  he  h«s  at  his  command 
the  choicest  and  most  correct  language  of 
polished  life,  he  feels  a  sort  of  pride  in  dis 
guising  it  beneath  the  ruder  diction,  known 
to  the  rough  frontiersman  !  And  this,  then, 
is  Kit  Carson T  How  strange  that  I  should 
meet  with  him  in  the  heart  of  the  wilderness  ; 
and  at  a  rnomnet,  too,  when  Heaven  seemed 
to  have  sent  him  to  preserve  my  life  from  the 
most  fearful  peril  by  which  it  was  ever  jeo 
pardized,  and  with  the  display  of  heroism 
such  as  I  never  witnessed  in  mortal  man 
before  1' 

Such  were  some  of  the  exciting  thoughts 
which  passed  through  Eugene's  mind  ;  and 
with  difficulty  was  it  thut  ho  could  at  last 
overcome  the  fascination  which  enchained 
^iis  glance  to  that  splendid  post,  and  when 
finally  the  spell  was  broken  for  moment,  it 
was  only  accomplished  as  his  wandering 
eye  nxed  itself  n  turn  upon  the  ideepii'g 
boy,  the  young  friend  of  Carson,  and  his  own 
remaining  fellow  captive. 

There  was  a  few  moments  more  of  silence 
before  the  perfect  stillness  that  reigr>ed  was 
broken  once  more  by  the  hunter's  voice,  and 
in  their  brief  Ki'erirn  Lincoln  had  leisure  for 
the.  fir*.t  time  to  examine,  more  pnrticulary, 
the  person  of  the  lad,  nnd  to  study  the  expres 
sion  of  a  countenance  winch  had,  from  the 
outset  interested  him 

The  youth  was  light  and  graceful  in  figure, 
j  of  the  apparent  age  of  eighteen,  with  decided- 
I  ly  ham'sonie  features,   and  R  complexion  that 
|  struck  Lincoln  as  being  beautifully  clear  and 
fresh,  though  the    warm    sun    of   the  prairio 
had  given  it  a  light  olive  tinge,  which  a  more 
manly  look  to  a  contour  that  would  otherwise 
have  sremed  effeminate.  The  fuce  wns  spirit 
ed  and  glowing  with    health   and  the  exciu- 
mentof  an  active  life  ;  but  there  Appeared  to 
be  a  native  timidity  in  its  expression,    which 
puzzled  while  it  impressed  the  observer,  and 
left  n  vague  feeling  of  doubt   that  there  was 
something  peculiar  and    incomprehensible  in 
the  boy's  character. 

The  dress  of  the  youth  was  a  conrse  but 
very  tasteful  hunting  suit,  much  after  the 
Spanish  or  Mexican  fashion,  from  which  it 
had  evidently  been  adapted;  and  it  fitted 
to  perfection  the  slight  and  supple  figure  of 
the  wearer,  which  was  symmetry  itself. 

Altogether,  Lincoln  could  not  help  feeling 
a  singular  interest,  mingled  with  a  kindly 


KIT  CARSON. 


•onthrnont,  In  the  handiome  youth  who  lay 
sleeping  ut  tho  hunter's  foot ;  and  mure  than 
onco  hu  nuked  himvdf  who  could  be  this  un- 
known  protege  of  Kit  Cursont  and  twice  or 
thrice  hu  caught  himself  unconsciously  look 
from  oiio  to  tho  other,  to  tee  if  ho' could 
truce  any  kindred  resemblance  in  tho  fun* 
tunn  uf  lutti.  D'jt  not  tlie  slightest  sign  of 
siinilurity  wui  discernible  to  the  keenest  scru- 
tiny. 

•Edward!' 

Tho    word  wan   in   a  whisper  breathed. 
1  Kdwurd  I1  repeated  tho  deep  tone  of  the 
huriUtr. 

The  sleeper  stirred  not — there  wan  no  an- 
•won. 

'  Tho  boy's  asleep — lot  him  rout  on,  You, 
stranger,  ure  you  uwako  ?'  was  then  softly 
uttered. 

Lincoln  tnovitd  hi*  body  a  little  in  proof  of 
tlic  fact,  und  softly  replied  ; 

1  Yu«;  can  1  bu  of  hulp  to  you  ?' 
4  Youcan,  siranger  ;  tin;  time's  come   for 
action  ' 

'  Speak  !  I  will  risk  my  life  to  servo  yon,  if 
necessary—  it  will  bu  returning  u  debt  I  owo 
III"  pilluiit  CUMNII,' 

'  Good  I  1  like  your  spirit— -the  rcul  pluck 
stranger,'  said  Carson  approvingly  ;  •  what's 
your  name,  friend  ?' 

Tin1  question  was  HOmewluit  abrupt,  but  the 
other  knew  that  it  WUH  UH  honest  us  it  wits 
unceremonious,  und  lie  replied,  without  he»»i« 
tution, — 

'  Lincoln— Eugene  Lincoln,  Mr  Carson.' 
'  Lincoln,  hey  t  Tliut  sounds  manly  und 
honest  ;  1  like  it, — none  o'  your  hinti-strung, 
windy-Hounding  Fortcsque*  und  Mortimers, 
und  Hich  dundiliod  nonst>ns«>.  U  it  I  say,  M run- 
({or,  don't  m!'nh:r  mo  any  more  ;  I'm  not  used 
to  having  u  hundle  to  my  name,  tiller  Unit 
fashion  ;  I'm  plain  Kit  Carson — nil  the  same 
nixmn  to  friend  or  foe  !  it  don't  hound  well 
with  tho  rn'Htor  on,  Hut  now,  what  1  wunt 
you  to  do  INJUN!  thin, — can't  you  contrive  to 
crawl  nl  >nu,  Homo  way,  close  up  to  mo,  nud 
linn)  I'll  lut  you  know  what  it  \»  Pin  going 
to  do.' 

With  grnrxt  difliculty,  and  by  dint  of  infi 
nite  exertion,  Lincoln  contrived  to  comply 
wit'i  thiH  ri'ipumt,  xlowly  working  hiniNi'lf 
iH'iin-r,  iudi  by  inch,  HO  ullouluully  woro  IIIH 
motions  eripplod, 

•  Tlicrr,  JIN'  by  your  hand,  stranger,'  oiiid 
Curson,  '  ixu't  that  p.  stick  o'  sumo  sort  on  th« 
ground?1 


1  It  in  a  piece  of  dried  pine,  I  believe/  an- 
•worod  iliu  other,  and  ultor  much  dilliculiy, 
ho  luoeuocled  in  dru^ing  liii  body  lufl'ioienU 
ly  near  to  grunp  the  Irnnuiuut  of  wood,  which 
the  hunier'a  lone  told  him  he  WUH  dcniroua  ot' 


1  That'*  the  thing  ;  it  Rave*  tearing  a  piece 
or  two  of  hark  from  the  wigwam  wall,  which 
might  make  an  oiipleutianl  noitio.  Now,  all 
you've  got  to  do  ut  present,  is  to  take  ono 
«end  o'  this  pine  stick  utween  your  teeth 
und  hold  tho  other  right  into  the  bowl  of  my 
pipe.' 

'How!  do  you  intend,  then,  to  fire  the 
wigwam  .•' 

'  Livo  und  larn,  Ntrnngpr  ;  you'fl  know, 
pretiuntly,'  and  UH  hi«  companion,  in  no  little 
wonder,  Applied  the  stick  to  the  hunter  u  pipe, 
the  latter  poritonuge  proceeded  to  draw  a  rapid 
HiiciMtHhiou  of  di'tip,  long  wliiil'ii,  'ivhiuh,  in  u 
momunt  mado  the  tobacco  aHMume  tho  apncnr* 
uiuin  and  lu'iit  uf  living  lumU  Thu  pitchy 
coating  of  the  combustible  wood  caused  it  to 
catch  the  lire  with  the  grealoitt  reudineuti,  and 
thii  pine  WUM  MOOD  in  u  bluxu.' 

1  Now,'  nitid  Kit  CurNoii,  coolly,  '  that  pino* 
knoi'H  uonvurtud  into  u  regular  lorr.lt.  And 
now,  hold  that  to  my  wrist  and  burn  thul  cun« 
HI:  d  cord.' 

Lincoln  startod  buck,  and  came  near  drop- 
ping  the  (laming  Htick  from  his  mouth  in  hi» 
consterna  ion. 

1  Aro  you  mad,  Kit  Cumon  !  are  you  mud? 
I  cannot  burn  the  cord  without  burning  your 
arm,  uUo.' 

1  Nevor  you  mind  that,  stranger  Better 
to  have  OIIQ'H  hand  rouMcd  in  the  night,  than 
one's  whole  body  in  the  morning.  Do  as  I 
bid  you,  Htrnngcr,  if  you've  any  regard  for 
your  own  life  und  that  poor  boy's,  there,  und 
Kit  Curnon's  itro  the  burguin,  if  you  will  —  it 
is  the  only  thing  that  will  save  us  now  —  Itulil 
the  torch  to  my  irrint  /' 

Full  live  minutes  of  determined  expostula 
tion  followed  bi'forothe  importunliienund  even 
meimct'N  of  Kit  Carson  could  prevail  over 
the  goiicroiH  obstinacy  of  the  no  lens  magna 
nimous  Lincoln. 

At  length,  only  when  the  heroic  hunter 
avowed  his  determination,  if  Lincoln  persist- 
cd  in  bin  refusal  to  cast  tho  bla/.ing  woodon 
tin)  ground  und  hold  his  hand  ovor  it  till  tho 
work  WUH  doiid,  thus  Miibjceiing  him  to  the 
danger  of  fur  greater  injury,  could  ho  produce 
tho  least  elU'd  upon  hi*  equally  resolute  com* 
panion. 


KIT  CARSON. 


'  Quick  !'  exclaimed  Carson,  •  let  it  be  fin 
ished  and  over  with  be/ore  Edward  awakes! 
The  boy  would  be  sure  to  cry  out  at  the 
sight — he's  so  tender-hearted.  Quick  with 
tne  torch  P 

With  the  most  painful  reluctance,  only 
consenting  from  the  knowledge  that  his  re 
fusal  would  be  productive  of  mere  evil  than 
good,  Lincoln,  with  a  shudder  that  caused  the 
teeth,  which  held  the  flaming  torch,  to  chatter 
with  horror,  nerved  himself  for  his  revolting 
task. 

Not  a  single  shudder,  however,  on  the  hun 
ter's  part,  not  a  quiver  of  the  frame  betiayed 
the  agony  which  the  man  of  iron  will  was  suf 
fering,  while  the  flume  of  the  torch  was  eat 
ing  into  the  flesh  of  that  massive  wrist,  the 
crippling  bands  of  which  it  was  consuming, 
as  if  they  had  been  wythes  of  straw. 

Not  one  groan,  not  one  spasm,  shook  that 
mighty  frame.  Only  his  lip,  that  proud,  that 
determined  lip,  was  compressed,  with  the 
firmness  of  a  rock,  between  his  clenched 
teeth,  as,  like  Mutius,  of  old,  he  held  I, is 
devoted  hand  within  the  flame  which  was 
scorching,  blackening,  burning  it  to  the  very 
bone. 

A  model  for  the  proudest  sculptor,  a  sub 
ject  for  the  greatest  masters,  was  the  heroic. 
Carson  then — a  living  picture  of  the  well  nigh 
incredible  lengths  of  self-command  to  which 
human  fortitude  and  human  endurance  -un 
attain. 

The  bark  hissed  and  crackled  :  half  con 
sumed  by  the  flames.  A  few  ashes,  and  a 
burnt  fragment  fell.  Then,  with  a  mighty 
effort  of  hi*  prodigious  strength,  he  snapped 
his  burning  bonds  apart  from  his  scorched 
and  bleeding  wrist. 

With  his  hands  once  more  free,  he  trans 
ferred  them  to  the  fetters  which  still  bound  his 
feet  and  knees,  and  burst  them,  one  by  one, 
as  Sampson  did  the  withes  of  the  Philistines, 
and  Kit  Carson  irnx  free  ! 

To  spring  to  each  of  his  fellow  captive's 
side,  to  rend  also  the  bonds  wrtch  still  con 
fined  them,  were  all  the  first  exertions  of  his 
newly- regained  liberty. 

The  young  boy,  Edward,  of  course  found 
himself  suddenly  •and  bewilderingly  aroused 
from  sleep  ;  but  the  hunter's  hand  was  on  his 
mouth  in  an  instant,  and  Kit  Carson's  well- 
known  voice  wispered, — 

'  Hist !  for  your  life  !  Ten  minutes  more 
and  we  are  free  i  Speak  not  a  word  more, 


move  not  an  inch,  on  your  soul — Kit  Carson 
bids  you.' 

The  next  in«tant  saw  the  hunter's  colossal 
proportions  flitting,  on  tip-toe,  from  the  wig 
wam. 

A  momentary  silence  ensued,  a  moment  of 
breathless  suspense.  Then,  fuint  and  gurg 
ling,  like  a  distant  streamlet's  gush,  a  smother 
ed  moan  seemed  to  reach  the  ears  of  both. — 
Next,  a  stifled  cry  was  heard  !  A  moment 
passed — another — anc*  another,  still  ;  until 
full  five  were  numbered,  like  apes  passing — 
one  by  one.  And  still  their  companion  did 
not  return. 

Could  it  have  been  his  dying  gnsp  they 
had  overheard  ? — had  Kit  Carson,  the  noble, 
the  chivalrous,  fallen  in  their  cause?  To 
Edward,  to  Lincoln,  there  was  distraction  in 
the  thought. 

Hark  !  a  step,  a  cautious,  wary  step  ap 
proaches !  Is  it  the  stealthy  step  of  the  In 
dian,  stealing  from  their  niu.-derea  corr.rado 
upon  them,  unawares  ? 

Hark,  again  ! — it  is  Kit  Curson's  tones 
they  hear  ! 

'  Hist!  hist!  come  forth!1  he  whispers,  and 
they  breathlessly  obey. 

Th"  two  Indians,  their  sentinels,  lay,  side 
by  side,  corpses — with  their  own  tomahawk* 
buried  in  their  skulls  ! 

4  Follow  me,  follow  me  !  Silence,  both  !' 
And  their  conductor  quickly,  softly,  leads 
the  way. 

To  the  astonished  gratification  of  both,  Kit 
°nrson,  when  he  halted,  a  few  paces  from  the 
wij.'yam,  had  paused  beside  three  *addled 
Iri'lm.  oonies. 

1  Mount,  mount !'  he  cried  ;  '  for  ihis  I  was 
gone  so  long  Mount  and  awny  !1 

All  three  bounded  to  their  sadd.es — life 
depended  on  theu  haste. 

'  Away,  nway  ! — ac'-^s  the  prairie  !'  cried 
the  never  failing  voice. 

And  away,  away  they  darvH,  horses  and 
men — Kit  Carson  foremost  rode.  O?  without 
interruption — one  mile  from  the  commence 
ment  of  their  flight  they  stopper,  to  breathe 
their  horses  and  look  gladly  back. 

'  Escaped,  escaped  !' cried  the  boy  Edward 
— and  '  escaped,  thank  God  !'  echoed  Lin* 
coin. 

At  the  same  moment  a  sound  like  the  faint 
echo  of  a  distant  war  whoop  smote  upon  their 
ears  from  afar 

A  faint  glow,  in  the  same  direction,  on  the 
dark  horizon  caugl.t  the  eye  of  Lincoln,  as  be 


00 


KIT  CARSON. 


added,—1  Our  flight  is  discovered,  but  we  care 
not  for  them  now.' 

4  Not  so  sure  of  that !  not  HO  mire  of  that !' 
exclaimed  Kit  Carson,  who  had  risen  erect  in 
his  saddle,  to  survey  the  faintly  illumined 
horizon,  and  ns  he  did  so,  his  massive  brow 
contracted  and  grew  black  as  the  nipht. — 
*  Well,  of  all  the  onnat'rul  varmints  God  ever 
made,  these  red-skins  are  the  beat !  Hide, 
stranger;  ride,  Edward — for  your  lives! — 
Ride!  ride!!  The  wind  sets  right  toward 

us,  and the  Injuns  have  fired  the  prairie 

behind !' 


SOT. 

San  Franri$ro—The  Rrrovrry  uf  the  Packet 
— Its  Revelations— The  Etjicditiontothc 
Gold  Mines. 

'From  poverty,  to  all  tlio  pride  of  wealth, 
Advance   by  one'  bold  bound,   and    not  by 
stealth.' 


ITAN(>R  wo  the  scene, 
and  return  to  the  voya- 
geurs  of  the  good  ship 

S ,  which    we   left 

putting  into  ihe  port  of 
San  Francisco,  their 
voyage  at  an  end,  and 


their  haven  gained  at  last. 

Readily  will  the  reader  believe,  that  never 
the  adventurous  bund  of  Columbus  hulled 
with  grontor  joy  a  no wiy •discovered  world, 
thuii  thnllod  through  every  films  of  the  (Jold- 
Set-ken,  nHthisir  eager  foul  first  touched  thu 
soil  of  (ItilijHrnin, 

In  les*  than  an  hour  after  the  S  cnst 
anchor  in  the  noble  harbor  of  the  future  me* 
tropolis  of  the  Pacific,  the  ship  was  nearly  do- 
serted,  and  the  streets  of  Sun  Francisco 
teemed  with  her  delighted  passengers.  The 
inhabitants  and  previous  arrivals  Hocked  to 
the  short-ait)  grcot  them  ;  all  was  excitement, 
exultation  und  breathless  enthusiasm  1  and  so 
inspirited  by  the  golden  account  by  tho  now- 
comers,  and  HO  dated  by  tho  dazzling  rcpru* 
•entfttioDi  made  on  every  hund,  that  iheir  im 
patience  could  scarce  brook  the  short  delay 
necessary  to  prepare  for  an  immediate  expe« 
dition  to  the  Gold  Mines,  and  many  longed 
to  set  out  for  the  Sucrumcnto,  that  very  night. 
But  it  was  decided  that  the  day  after  the  mor 


row,  the  party  were  to  organize  for  an  instant 
start. 

And  Flt-nrj  Vernon— what  of  him  ?— and 
John  Vernon,  the  miser  T — and  Ellen  Lin* 
coin  ? — how  fared  it,  all  this  while,  with 
them  ? 

The  two  former  we  left  in  a  helpless  state  ; 
the  one  from  the  effects  of  delirium,  the  other 
from  a  fearful  wound.  Hut  the  good  reader 
will  also  bear  in  mind,  that  though  the  arrival 
of  the  S in  port  had  been  minutely  de 
tailed,  no  purticulnr  account  was  given  of  the 
condition  of  the  sullerers,  during  tho  conclu 
sion  of  the  voy uge, 

In  this  interim,  however,  time  und  the  bene 
ficial  t-lleeisof  the  sen-air  hud  done  much  for 
poor  Ileniy  Vernon,  operating  f.ivorably  'MI 
thu  delirious  student ;  yet  it  was  more  limit 
probable,  tliut  to  Ellen's  soothing  tenderness 
und  watchful  care,  he  chiefly  owed  the  life 
that  hud  long  Iv.ing  upon  a  thread  so  slender ; 
for  what  so  faithful,  firm  und  true  us  Love's 
sleepless  vigil  1 

A  guardian  ungel  sho  had  boon,  indeed,  to 
him;  und  us  their  voyujo  cad  drawn  nearer 
und  nearer  to  its  clc.su,  with  joy  unutterable 
sho  watched  his  gradual  convalescence  ;  until 

on  tho  glad  day  which  witnessed  tl  S 's 

entrance  into  Culiforniun  woters,  she  had 
persuaded  him  to  venture  once  more,  as  of  old, 
on  deck  ;  thinking  that  the  joyous  intelligence 
might  bo  of  more  benefit  than  the  physician's 
art. 

Nor  in  this  was  she  mistaken  ;  Henry,  too, 
participated  in  the  universal  ccstucy,  though 
Ml Icn  imposed  sih-nce  at  first  upon  him,  ('far 
ing  that  I  I'M  transports,  too  suddenly  indulged, 
might  injuriously  all'i-cthim. 

Hat  when,  UN  wo  havo  already  narrated 
thu  ship  wits  at  length  fairly  at  rest  from  her 
long  voyage,  and  her  little  world  of  adven 
turers  were  emptying  themselves  at  once  on 
the  town ;  the  young  convalescent  was  no 
longer  to  be  restrained  ;  he  longed  to  join  the 
eager  throng. 

'  1  am  well  now,  dear  Ellen,  fear*  not,'  he 
said,  that  eventful  night  of  the  arrival  in  port, 
whilu  forth,  from  the  ship's  deck,  they  guzcd 
out  upon  Sun  Francisco's  low-roofed  houses 
nnd  crowded  streets.  '  This  bus  completely 
restored  me,  I  feel  it,  -in  every  hounding 
pulse  and  nerve.  Thank  (lod  and  yourself, 
dour  girl,  tho  warm  blood  goes  leaping  thro' 
my  veins  once  more,  and  I  can  feel  this  heart 
thrill  with  the  glow  of  health  us  in  the  days 
gone  by !' 


KIT  CARSON. 


91 


'  Be  careful,  0  be  careful  of  your  precious 
self,  denr  Henry.  You  have  had  one  relapse 
already,  remember  !' 

4  That  danger  is  punt — I  am  an  invalid  no 
lonucr,  Ellen!  This  day's  event  has  worked 
miracles.  Nay,  feur  not  that  I  shall  over, 
exert  myself  in  conversing  with  you  ;  the  seal 
of  silence  has  been  upon  my  lips  too  long  al 
ready — first  of  all,  let  mo  know  how  fares  my 
t/nr/c,  I  suppose  I  moat  call  him  ?'  he  said, 
bitterly. 

1  I  In  has  not  toft  the  surgeon's  cabin  since 
the  clay  he  was  conveyed  to  it,' replied  Ellen, 
and  then  seemed  to  pnuse  reluctantly. 

*  Ila,  but  you  have  more  to  i\dd,  Ellen — 
why  do  you  keep  it  buck  ?  His  wound,  his 
broken  limb ?' 

4  It  was  broken  in  three  places — n  com 
pound  fracture,  I  think  the  surgeon  called  it. 
Your  uncle  is  lamed  for  life,  Henry  !' 

'  Lamed  for  life!'  echoed  the  nephew,  slight- 
ly  starting.  '  Ila!  this,  then,  may  prove  some 
harrier  to  his  avarice  ;  if  so,  it  will  be  a  bless 
ing,  not  a  curse.  Ellen,  where  in  he?  I  must 
see  him!'  bo  said,  suddenly. 

'  Wherefore,  dear  Henry?'  timidly  asked 
the  gentle  girl. 

'  Wherefore,  say  you  ?  for  what,  Ellen, 
but  to  regain  possession  of  the  stolen  packet? 
It  must  be  recovered  !' 

Before  Ellen  could  detain  him,  he  had  bro 
ken  awny  and  flown  to  the  surgeon's  room. — 
The  faithful  girl,  in  alarm  for  the  possible 
consequences,  hastened  after  him  ;  just  in 
time  to  see  his  form  vanish  through  the  door 
of  the  hospital.  On  the  threshold  of  the  lat 
ter  she  stopped  to  observe  what  passed  with 
in,  ready,  if  necessary,  to  interpose. 

The  wounded  man  was  sitting  up  in  bed, 
and  by  the  jingling,  chinking  sound  from  his 
hammock,  Lincoln  knew  that  the  miser  was 
counting  his  gold. 

At  the  noiso  of  his  entrance  into  the  care 
fully  darkened  hospital,  the  busy  reckoner  of 
hoarded  wealth  started,  and  hastily  concealing 
something  beneath  his  pillow,  in  a  peevish 
tone  demanded  to  know  who  was  there  ? 

'  The  surgeon  1'  replied  the  student,  who, 
restored  to  tho  full  exercise  of  hi*  faculties, 
had  resolved  on  a  certain  species  of  tactics. 

4  The  surgeon,  hey  ?  Oh,  is  it  you?  Why 
did  you  leave  mo  so  long  ?'  demanded  the  old 
man ;  •  ho  1  ho  1  1  suppose  you  think  it's  no 
consequence  to  attend  to  a  poor  old  man  wh< 
hasn't  two-pence  in  the  world — not  a  penny  I 
Oho!  that's  the  world  1  that's  the  world !'  and 


he  miser  chuckled   gleefully    at  the  idea  of 
lis  self-alleged  poverty. 

A  sudden  twitch  of  pain  converted  the  in 
cipient  grin,  abruptly,  into  a  groan,  as  he  has 
tily  mumbled, — 

'  Oh  !  there's  that  twinge  again  !  Doctor, 
doctor,  loosen  the  bandage  round  my  leg,  and 
— and — ugh  !'  and  his  whole  frame  quivered 
with  anguish. 

Tho  protended  surgeon  obeyed  ;  but  while 
affecting  to  relax  the  tightened  ligatures  from 
the  swollen  limb,  which  he  found  had  some 
time,  since  been  set,  and  appearing  to  smooth 
the  pillows  that  supported  the  invalid's  head, 
he  was,  in  reality,  busily  fcarching  for  the 
stolen  packet  which  he  was  convinced  he  had 
seen  the  miser  hastily  conceal  upon  Ins  en 
trance. 

Beneath  the  straw  bolster  his  hand  suddenly 
encountered  a  package ;  by  a  secret  and 
skillful  movement  he  drew  it  rapidly  forth, 
and  concealed  it  unpcrceived. 

The  object  of  his  visit  to  the  miser's  bed 
was  gained  ! 

A  fretful  '  Stop  !'  from  the  peevish  old  man, 
caused  him  to  half  halt  as  Ite  was  hastening 
from  the  cabin. 

1  Stop,  doctor  ;  stop,  I  say.  Where  is — 
the — the  ship  now?1  was  asked,  in  the  trem 
bling  accents  of  old  age, 

'  At  our  voyage's  end — in  the  port  of  Yerba 
Buena,  in  tho  harbor  and  town  of  San  Fran 
cisco,'  was  the  instant  reply  of  the  nephew, 
who  sought  thus  to  divert  the  wounded  man's 
attention  completely  from  himself,  little  an- 
ticipative  of  the  electric  effect  upon  his  au 
ditor. 

A  dagger  planted  that  very  instant  in  his 
side,  could  not  have  caused  the  miser  to  stag 
ger  up  more  suddenly  from  his  pillow,  reck 
less  of  his  wounded  limb,  hcedlessof  all  else, 
as  he  gasped  forth, — 

1  S»n  Francisco  !  California  !  there,  there, 
at  last !  Let  me  go — let  me  go  !'  he  shouted. 
Gold — gold — gold  !  O  God  !  let  me  go — 
this  moment,  this  instant.  Accursed  wound  ! 
you  shall  not  keep  me  from  it.  I  will  not, — 
will  not  stay;  Heaven  nor  heli  shall  hold  me 
back  !  O,  curses,  ten  thousand  curios  !  on 
this  leg.' 

And  with  impotent  maledictions  on  his 
foaming  lip,  the  monomaniac  fell  back,  grind 
ing  hid  teeth  in  helpless  frenzy. 

4  Henry  '.'  cried  the  voice  of  Ellen,  at  his 
back  ;  '  you  have  been  too  precipitate. 


92 


KIT  CARSON. 


But  Henry  Vernou  heeded  not  her  words, 
but  crying,-— 

4 The  picket,  Ellen !  I  hare  regained  the 
stolen  packet !'  he  darted  past  her,  and  hur 
ried  with  eager  footsteps  to  his  cabin ;  his 
Ellen1))  eyes  following  him  the  while,  though 
her  footsteps  ventured  not  to  follow, 

It  was  all  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ere  lltnry 
Vcrnon  rcnppeured,  and  returning,  placed  in 
her  hands  the  packet  ho  hud  been  perusing, 
Htinply  saying, —  » 

4  Read  this,  Ellen.' 

•  She  looked  closely  at  her  lover,  to  see  how 
its  previous  perusal  hud  affected  him  ;  hut  he 
was  quite  composed  and  calm,  though  Ins 
handsome  countenance  wore  the  deepest  ex 
pression  of  thought  H!IO  hud  over  seen  upon 
it.  Btieminigea  l>y  his  manner,  she,  in  obo* 
dience  to  a  hulf-imputient  gesture,  removed, 
onco  more  iho  envelope,  uud  read  what  fol 
lows, — 

4  Spito  of  your  ^unpictons,  sp1'-)  of  child 
hood's  vivid  recollections,  Npite  of  your  firm 
belief  to  the  contrary,  you,  Henry  Vernou, 
are  an  only  fou!  Think  not  that  1  am  de 
ceiving  you,  now,  Henry — 1  never  have  de 
ceived  you,  You  maintain  that  you  have  a 
distinct  remembrance  of  a  brother — yet  a  bro 
ther  you  never  hud, 

1  '  Impossible  !'  you  will  say.  Listen  while 
I  solve  to  you  the  mystnry  ;  while  I  clearly 
prove  to  you  that  you  were  both  right  and 
10  -ong. 

4  You  know  that  your  father  is  rich,  but  he 
hu«  not  always  boen  so.  No,  my  son  ;  the 
ttmo  has  been  when  the  meMiant-princo  of 
.Beacon  street  was  an  utmost  penniless  fur 
trader,  on  tho  western  frontier.  For  many 
years,  such  was  tho  humble,  hardy  avocation 
that  I  followed. 

4  I  was  of  a  good  but  decayed  family  ;  with 
only  a  single  wealthy  member  in  it.  This 
was  a  distant  relative,  a  great  traveller,  and  n 
very  eccentric  man,  who  had  passed  most  of 
his  life  amid  tho  aristocratic  society  and  insti 
tutions  of  Europe,  and  bocumo  infected  with 
their  peculiar  spirit.  His  greatest  pride  lay 
in  his  family  name,  republican  though  ho  was 
— his  constant  hobby  was  the  genealogical 
tree  of  the  Vernons,  which  it  wus  his  chief 
delight  to  trace  buck  to  its  furthest  English 
origin. 

4  He  was  himself  unmarried  and  childless  : 
my  brother  and  myself  were  his  nearest  con 
nections  ;  and  often  he  declared  that  he  should 
leave  the  bulk  of  his  property  to  that  branch 


of  the  family  best  calculated  to  keep  up  the 
name. 

John,  my  elder  brother,  was  married,  with 
two  children,  the  one  a  boy  ;  the  other,  a 
girl.  But  my  rich  relation  knew  him  to  be 
an  incorrigible  miser,  and  a  man  of  sordid 
soul,  whom  Nature  had  little  fitted  to  uphold 
the  dignity  of  tee  family  honors.  1  was  there 
fore  preferred  before  him,  by  our  common  re 
lative,  who  desired  that  I  and  my  future  chil 
dren  should  enjoy,  instead,  the  dignity,  and, 
as  1  was  yet  a  bachelor,  urg"ed  me  to  marry. 
And  yet,  at  the  same  time,  ho  pointedly  as 
sured  me,  that  in  caso  the  fruit  of sjch  union 
should  be  female  offspring  only,  with  whom 
tho  family  nnmo  must  perish,  ho  should  then, 
despite  his  preference  for  me,  feel  in  duty 
bound  to  bestow  his  wealth  upon  tho  son  of 
my  brother  John,  who  would  perpetuate  tho 
name  of  the  Vernons. 

4  Ho  hud  little  need  to  urge  me  to  marry  ; 
I  was  even  then  under  an  engagement  to  your 
dear  mother,  Henry,  whom  I  first  met,  a 
sunny-hearted  girl,  in  the  far  west,  where 
she  MIW  and  loved  the  poor  fur-trailer — and 
Mth  the  old  man's  request  1  wus  but  too  will 
ing  to  comply. 

4  We  were  united,  your  mother  and  myself. 
Longingly  I  looked  for  tho  day  when  our  first 
born  should  greet  the  light ;  and  alas !  I  must 
confess,  that,  with  a  parent's  natural  affection, 
was  mingled  too  often  the  mercenary  hope 
that  its  sex  might  be  that  which  was  to  bring 
wealth  and  fortune  to  u  s 

'  The  child  was  born — it  was a  girl! 

4  Tho  child's  existence  wns  well-nigh  pur 
chased  ut  the  cost  of  a  parent's;  for,  duiing 
hrco  long  months,  the  mother  hung  between 
life  and  death.  It  was  a  girl,  and  unless  n 
<«/i  culled  me  father,  the  inheritance  would 
full  to  my  miser-brother's  boy. 

4  It  was  u  iluiiir liter  that  hud  been  b.>rn  to 
me ;  of  my  wife's  lifo  little  hope  waa  at  the 
time  entertained  ;  of  a  second  child  there 
was  still  less  prospects.  I  saw  nil  my  antici 
pations  blasted  ut  once,  for  1  felt  that  my  ec 
centric  relative  would  bo  inexorable,  urid  I 
know  that  the  property  must  go  lo  the  son  of 
John  Vernon,  since  1  was  not  bles.-ed  with 
mule  offspring, 

4  I  wus  poor,  struggling  for  a  bare  subnst- 
ence  ;  a  tolling  (ruder — 1  wus  fur  away  in  the 
wild  west,  which  was  then  my  homo,  remov 
ed  from  observation  and  scrutiny.  1  thought 
of  this,  and  determined  on  a  desperate  ex 
pedient. 


KIT  CARSON. 


93 


1  From  my  distant  western  home,  I  wrote 
to  my  ricli  relation  in  I'oston  thai  a  sun  had 
been  born  to  me.  It  is  true,  Harry  !  1  was 
far  removed  from  him — he  did  not  dream  he 
was  deceived. 

'  The  child,  as  it  grew  up,  was,  from  the 
first,  dressed  in  boy's  clothes  ;  no  one  suspect 
ed  that  it  was  not  in  reality  a  boy.  The  wnn- 
dering  trader's  hfu  I  led,  shifting  from  placo 
to  pkice,  nlso  favored  concealment ;  and  my 
wife's  remonstrances  and  scruples,  1  gradually 
silenced  by  confessing  the  truo  reason  of  the 
strange  deceit,  and  arguing  that  it  was  an  in 
nocent  deception,  by  means  of  which  nn  old 
in. ui's  foolish  whim  would  not  be  sullered  to 
lose  our  child  a  rich  inheiitunce.  True,  1 
could  not  convince  her  of  its  justice  or  pro 
priety,  but  the  step  had  been  taken  and  there 
there  w;is  no  receding. 

4  The  delusion  was  complete.  The  proud 
aristocrat  made  his  last  will  in  favor  of  my 
supposed  son ;  warned  by  declining  health, 
ami  when,  after  notmany  months,  we  receiv 
ed  from  his  own  hnnd  the  intelligence  that  he 
was  on  his  deathbed,  the  announcement  was 
coupled  with  an  earnest  injunction  to  rear  up 
'  our  young  boy'  a  becoming  heir  to  the  name 
as  well  as  to  the  wealth  of  the  Vernons, 
whose  last  representative  he  now  was. 

1  Meanwhile,  my  wife  had  so  far  rallied  as 
to  have  regained,  in  a  great  measure,  her 
former  health,  though  she  was  never  so  strung 
as  she  had  been,  and  her  constitution  was, 
ever  after,  delicate.  Contrary  to  my  most 
hopeful  anticipations,  she  became  the  mother 
ol  a  son  ! 

*You,  Henry,  were  thnt  boy. 

1  Your  mother  would  have  instantly  induced 
me  to  allow  your  sifter  to  assume,  for  the 
tifst  timo,  the  dress  of  her  true  sex,  but  I  wus 
aware  that  the  estate  was  not  yet  settled,  that 
there  rniiiht  be  danjjer  in  so  early  a  transfor 
mation,  and  I  would  not  give  my  immediate 
consent  to  the  change.  Still,  1  did  not  de 
sign  that  our  daughter  should  much  longer 
be  nnsexed. 

'  The  time  never  came! — delayed  by  me, 
f»dl  three  years  after  your  birth  ;  year?  which 
blended  with  your  childish  recollections  the 
existence  of  a  supposed  brother — destiny  or 
Heaven  determined  that  it  should  never  take 
place,  but  in  its  stead  should  come  a  signal 
retribution. 

»  Henry,  it  happened  thus.  We  yet  stayed 
in  our  western  home ;  but  from  n  simple 
agent,  our  newly  acquired  wealth  had  enabled 


me  to  become  one  of  the  heads  of  the  com 
pany,  embarking  my  whole  capital,  with  the 
most  profitable  results,  in  the  nor'h-western 
fur  trade. 

In  this  prominent  capaqity,  I  was  frequent 
ly  brought  in  contact  with  a  welt  known  hunt- 
er  and  trnpper,  one  of  the  most  daring  and 
resolute  men  1  ever  encountered  even  among 
the  hnrdy  pioneers  of  the  west.  He  was  a 
noble  and  singular  being,  loving  the  wilder 
ness — revelling  in  the  freedom  of  forest  and 
prnirie — detesting  the  very  name  of  city  or 
town  ;  never  venturing  into  the  habitations 
of  men,  save  when  at  long  intervals  he  came 
to  the  dillerent  stations  to  dispose  of  Itis 
sl(ins  and  lurs,  the  spoils  of  his  hardihood. 
His  very  name  is  reverenced  by  the  bold  fron 
tiersmen,  whose  idol  he  is;  and  down  to  this 
very  day,  though  few,  very  few,  have  ever 
seen  this  hero  of  the  wilderness,  every  wo 
man  and  child  throughout  our  broad  land  has 
heard  of  Kit  Carson  ! 

•If  but  lor  one  thing  alone,  he  would  be 
immortalized  in  American  Instory  us  the  ex 
plorer  of  the  Gold  Region,  the  discoverer  of 
the  treasures  of  California  ! 

1  Busi  .ess,  1  have  said,  brought  me  in  fre 
quent  contact  with  this  extraordinary  man — 
who  is  as  little  seen  as  he  is  widely  known. — 
It  was  on  one  of  these  occasions  that  1  had 
taken  a  journey  to  the  camp  ot  Kit  Carson, 
to  engage  him  us  the  leader  of  a  trading  expe 
dition  to  the  Rocky  Mountains.  My  disguis 
ed  daughter  1  had  taken  with  me,  your  kind 
mother  thinking  the  journey  would  be  of  a 
little  benefit  to  her. 

'  While  I  was  occupied  in  transacting  my 
business  with  the  hardy  backwoodsman,  she 
was  left  to  amuse  hers-Jf  by  rumblirg  about 
the  encampment  of  the  hunter?,  everything 
in  which  excited  her  childish  curiosity  and 
admiration. 

•  She  wus  at  the  time  little    moie  than  five 
years  old,  of  course  too  younp  to  comprehend 
the  distinction  of  sex,  nnd  in  her  boyish  dress, 
she  would  never  huvo  been  suspected  for  a 
female  child. 

4  Imagine,  Henry,  a  father's  agony  when, 
at  the  conclusion  of  my  interview  with  the 
hunter,  the  little  child  was  nowhere  to  be 
found  ! 

*  It  was  the  conjecture  of  Carson   and  his 
men,  that,  from  the  encampment,  the  child 
must  have  wandered  forth  into  the  forest  and 
become  l>  »t  in  its  mazes.    .The   noble  man 
needed  not  •  father's  entreaties  to  dispatch  his 


94 


KIT  CARSON. 


hunters  in  every  direction  in  «eurck  of  the  lost 
one. 

4  The  woods  were  scoured  in  every  direc 
tion  for  miles  around,  but  no  child  was  to  be 
found. 

1  NVbnt  could  have  become  ot  the  lost  one  ? 
She  could  scarcely  have  strayed  to  a  great 
distance,  to  HO  great  a  distunce  us  lo  be  be 
yond  the  swoop  of  the  scouting  party  ;  p'>s- 
siWy  they  might  unwittingly  have  punned  her, 
unparceived,  in  tho  fure.st  intricacies  For 
days  the  attempt  was  continued  ;  scarce  a 
fulong  of  the  surrounding  woods  was  left  un- 
visitod, 

I  Kit  Carson   himself  led  the   determined 
search,  but  cvon  his  matchless  skill    and   ex* 
perieneo  could  discover  no  sign  of  \ho  litilu 
wanderer.     It  was  possible,   lie  tuld  me,  (hut 
tin!  poor  child  mi^ht  Imvo    fallen  11  prey  to  tl 
wivugo  animal— tho  forest  loomed   with    wild 
boasts,  ho  Niiid, 

I 1  bosought  him,  in  pity  to  n  father'*  fool- 
ingi,  not  to  cruxh  ovary  hopn  ;  abuvo  all,  not 
to  loavu  in   u    hcliof  MI  turriblu,     llopo,  in* 
deed,  tho  gonorouu  Curson  guvo  mo,  but   O, 
huw  faint.! 

4  It  might  bo,  ho  said,  that  somo  wandering 
hunter  or  strolling  trappor  hud  found  my  poor 
child  uiul  borne  him  to  hid  cabin  or  lo  the 
settlements, 

4  Tho  idon  wan  plausible;  the  little  lost  one 
coultl  not  have  siruyod  HO  Car  us  not  io  huvo 
been  embraced  within  tho  circle  oi  tho  scout. 
There  were  no  signs  discoverable  of  a  vio 
lent  end,  by  means  of  a  wild  beast;  and  tho 
surrounding  country  WUH  u  region  much  fre 
quented  by  hunters  and  the  like,  who  might 
probably  have  fallen  in  with  tho  object  of  our 
unavailing  scorch. 

4  With  u  breaking  heart,  at  length,  I  wnn 
forced  to  lea vu  Carnon,  but  not  until  I  hud 
won  from  him  n  promise  that  ho  would  leave 
no  eflbrt  unmnde  to  discover  some  truce  of 
my  poor  hoy — us  (/arson,  in  common  with 
the  world,  boliovud  your  poor  ulster  to  bo  — 
Ho  kept  his  word,  that  noblo  man.  Ho  visited 
tho  Keltlomonts,  ono  by  one ;  ho  nought  out 
every  hunter  and  frontiersman  whom  it  was 
possible  lo  moot ;  his  inquiries  were  inccs 
Bant  and  unsleeping,  and  every  advantage 
and  facility  his  roving,  adventurous  life  gave 
him,  ho  diligently  improved— ulus  !  still  in 
vain  1 

4  When  for  the  last  time  we  parted,  it  was 
with  a  vow  from  tho  gallant  hunter,  ilia 
the  search  should  not  end  here,  that  he  would 


never  altogether  lose  sight  of  his  past  exer- 
ions  or  their  object,  and  patiently  remain  on 
he  look-out  for  any  trace  of  the  lost  one's 
ate. 

'Henry,  the  blow  nearly  killed  your  mother 
— it  nearly  killed  myself.  From  that  day  I 
lave  nover  ceased  to  consider  it  a  judgment 
if  1'rovidence — a  judgment  upon  me  for  my 
jypoc.risy  and  deceit. 

4  Tho  Inst  hope  having  perished,  wo  re 
moved  from  n  part  ot  the  country  fraught 
with  so  distressing  an  association  ;  we  left 
tho  west  iorevur ;  we  came  to  Hoston,  to  be 
come  one  of  its  richest  and  most  honored 
families. 

1  We  still  had  your-olf,  Ilnnry,  or  your  nigh 
hourt  broken  mother  would  have  sunk  beneath 
tho  shoe.k.  O  (tod  1  how  1  sought,  in  the 
midst  of  splendor  to  forgot  it  I  how  1  strove 
to  banish  tho  memory  of  my  sinful  deception, 
and  thn  judgment  of  IJeavon  upon  it,  And 
now,  my  son,  you  can  at  lungth  comprehend 
why  1  sought  io  avoid  all  allusion  to  tho  lute, 
nay,  tothovoiy  oxisimino  of  ono,  whoso  mere 
mention,  forced,  crushing!}',  buck  upon  mo 
agonising  rooolli-ctions  of  my  crime !— for 
such  I  huvo  always  considered  it.  Now,  too, 
you  can  fathom  the  mystery  of  the  strAtigo, 
inexplicable  silence  and  secrecy  in  which 
you  huvo  over  found  this  strange  subject  en 
shrouded. 

1  Ami  now,  Henry,  my  dear,  dear  boy,  let 
mo  add,  finally,  ono  more,  confession.  Hut 
that  you  weio  hound  on  u  fur  voyuge  to  a  land 
where  il  is  possible  that  you  ma)  meet  the 
only  man  to  whom  deceitful  hopo  can  look 
for  any  clue  to  tho  secret  which  time  hu«  so 
longjealously  kept,  you  might  never  huvo 
known  that  which  it  was  this  packet's  purpose 
to  rnvnul  to  you. 

'  »SV/'A:  out  Kit  Canon — remind  him  of  his 


Hero  tho  confession  abruptly  ended,  closing 
with  this  lust  injunction,  Tho  won  ri'poatod  it 
as  tho  mxdur  finished,— 

1  Seek  out  Kit  Curson  !— remind  him  of  his 
vow!  This  is  my  father's  bidding!  Mny 
fortune  forever  frown  on  mcifl  iulftll  it  not  1' 
said  Henry  Vernon,  solemly. 

4  Hold,  dear  Henry,  hold  I1  exclaimed  the 
anxious  girl,  as  sho  snw  his  compressed  lip, 
clenched  hnnd,  and  resolute  expression,4  you 
surely  do  not  mean,  BO  scon  after  your  sick* 
ness,  to— to ' 

4 1  do,  Ellen  ;  tho  expedition  for  tho  mines 


KIT  CARSON. 


sets  out  in  two  days— I  join  that  expedition  ! 
Seek  not  to  dissuade  me  ;  even  with  you,  dear 
girl,  I  must  bo  inexorable,  here.  I  have  re 
solved— I  start  with  the  Gold  Hunters  the  day 
after  to-morrow,  up  the  Sacramento— i  shull 
find  Kit  Carson  there.* 

There  was  a  firmness,  a  determination,  in 
the  speaker's  tones,  as  these  words  were  said, 
that  convinced  our  heroine  opposition  was  in 
deed  vuin. 

Site  realized  that,  to  resist  tho  bent  of  his 
mind  would  be  perhaps  of  more  injury  in  his 
present  excitement  on  the  subject,  than  its  in 
dulgence. 

Between  the  lovers  a  long  and  earnest  con 
versation  then  took  place.  Itssubslance  may 
be  inferred  from  the  subsequent  proceedings 
of  both. 

The  ensuing  morning  they  repaired  on 
shore  together  ;  whither  they  had  been  pre 
ceded  by  nearly  all  of  tho  S 's  passen 
gers  and  people,  many  of  whom  they  met  in 
the  streets  of  the  town. 

The  town  itself,  was  a  compact  collection 
of  rude  dwellings  of  wood  ;  with  its  roughly- 
constructed  log  hutj  and  hastily. built  shanties 
— presenting  much  the  appearance  of  a  west 
ern  settlement. 

Before,  stretched  in  unruffled  beauty,  lay 
the  placid  Hay  of  San  Francisco ;  the  finest 
harbor  to  be  found  on  the  American  coast  of 
the  Pacific,  affording  its  brilliant  promise  of 
the  destined  commercial  pre-eminence  of  that 
little  sea-shore  town,  to  the  eastward  of  which, 
in  the  back-ground  far  behind,  towered  up 
tho  blue  outlines  of  tho  distant  range  of  moun 
tain*,  in  whose  dark  gorges,  volcanic  clefts 
nnd  descending  stream-*  lay  hidden  the  golJen 
ore,  which,  at  that  very  moment,  caused  to 
turn  upon  it  the  eyes  of  the  whole  world  ; 
each  sparkling  atom,  prophetic  of  California's 
future  destiny,  as  one  of  the  most  populous 
regions  upon  the  known  earth,  with  San  Fran 
cisco  for  its  centre,  and,  in  the  latter,  tho 
mightiest  metropolis  in  the  west. 

By  Henry  and  his  sweet  companion,  seve 
ral  hours  were  spent  in  viewing  its  picturesque 
beauties,  and  many  more  in  making  the  ar 
rangements  which  were  their  special  object. 
Young  Vernon  and  his  fair  friend  soon  ascer 
tained,  satisfactorily,  that  there  were,  at  the 
present  time,  in  San  Francisco,  the  wives  of 
several  of  the  enterprisinggentlemen  who  had 
preceded  our  adventurers,  and  who  were  ab 
sent  at  the  mines,  leaving  their  families  in  the 
town. 


Vernon,  knowing  this,  had  prevailed  upon 
Ellen  to  place  her,  in  her  true  character,  un 
der  the  protection  of  these  ladies;  while  he 
himself  proceeded  to  join  the  husbands  of  the 
latter  at  the  mines,  hide  more  than  a  hun 
dred  miles  distant  from  the  town  of  San  Fran 
cisco. 

True,  it  was  not  until  after  much  opposi 
tion  oil  the  part  of  Ellen,  that  she  could  be 
persuaded  to  the  separation  from  him  she  so 
devoutly  loved.  But  prudence  and  a  lover'* 
eloquence  succeeded. 

It  wus  arranged  that,  while  on  the  morrow 
Henry  was  to  start  with  the  expedition,  Ellen, 
resuming  once  more  the  legitimate  dress  of 
her  sex,  so  long  abandoned  fora  brother's,  os 
well  as  a  lover's  sake,  should  place  herself 
under  the  matronly  charge  and  protection  of 
these  kind  ladies. 

With  tho  earliest  drtwn,  the  expedition  of 
which  Vernon  was  to  be  a  member,  was  to 
start  :  and  at  sunset  of  the  second  day  after 
the  arrival  of  the  adventurers,  took  place  the 
twilight  parting  of  the  lovers,  now  for  the 
first  time  about  to  be  separated,  since  their 
first  departure  from  the  Tri  Mount  City  of 
the  Kast. 

4  Farewell,  then,  and  Heaven's  care  be 
over  you,'  fondly  a  Jded  Vernon,  as  they  rnado 
their  last  adieux. 

Bending  down  from  the  saddle  of  the  horse 
he  had  already  mounted,  preparatory  to  join 
ing  the  party,  with  whom  he  was  to  proceed, 
at  their  quarters,  he  pressed  a  lover  s  devot 
ed  kiss  to  the  rich  warm  lips  and  glowing 
check  of  tho  noble  girl  who  had  FO  well  proved 
the  strength  and  purity  of  her  affection  ;  and 
beautiful,  indeed  she  looked,  and  O,  how  su 
premely  BO,  in  his  partial  eyes,  in  tlu  simple 
but  tasteful  cottage-maiden's  dress  she  now 
wore 

4  God  bles^  and  preserve  you,  Henry  !'  she 
murmured,  tremulously. 

'  And  you,  dear,  denr  Ellen  !  I  leave  you 
well  situated,  do  I  not,  dearest  ?'  he  asked, 
tenderly. 

'  Yes,  dear  Henry,  yes;  as  well  and  hap- 
pily  as  I  can  be  in  your  absence.  Those  la 
dies  are  very  kind  to  me  ;  have  no  fears  on 
my  account.' 

'  Soon,  soon  will  I  return  again ;  nnd  now, 
for  awhile,  farewell,  my  own  dear  Ellen,  no 
blest  of  your  sex'1 

One  last  kiss,  one  fond  caress,  one  more 
murmured  blessing,  and  then  reseating  him 
self  firmly  in  the  saddle,  he  grasped  the  rein, 


KIT  CARSON. 


paused  to  turn  on  Ellen  the  lint  lingering 
look-— then,  with  n  full  heurt,  touched,  ligluly, 
hi«  homo  with  tho  whip,  and  roJo  rapidly 
awny. 

Such  wnn  the  lovers'  purling  on  Sacramen 
to's  golden  water*. 

Henry  Vernon  rodo  rapidly  nnd  norvotmly, 
with  tho  view  of  freeing  himnelf,  in  somo  mea 
sure  from  the  .depression  of  thin  ngitni'mtf  part- 
in  if ;  but  the  <|u  irters  were  in  clone  vicinity  to 
that  section  of  the  town,  and  the  youthful 
horseman  noon  Hufuly  ruauliud  tho  end  of  thai 
night's  ride. 

Horn,  on  arriving,  ho  found,  IH  ho  export 
od,  everything  in  thu  most  per  fee,  t  rniidiuess 
for  tho  morrow'H  expedition;  and  like,  tho  rest, 
he  retired  early  to  repose,  to  recruit  his  en. 
ergii-s  fur  tho  arduous  undertaking  of  tho  coin* 
in*,'  day. 

Soundly  nnd  awootly  did  ho  Hlurnher,  nnd 
Kllon's  imugo  wtslhn  vision-queen  nf  nil  IIIM 
drc'iiuiH;  hut  liltlo  did  ho  «uspect  thu  events 
which  the  course  ofunolhcr  twenty-four  hours 
was  to  bring  forth  ;  and  slumbered  on,  uncon* 
sciuiiH  that  the  footstep*  of  his  horse,  that  very 
night,  had  boon  tracked  to  Kllen  sidu  ;  Ins 
converse  overheard  ;  his  proposed  plun*  as. 
certaiiied,  by  u  liired  tool  of  John  Vernon, 
thu  miser,  and  the  hitter  meanwhile  prepared 
to  defeat,  on  tho  morrow,  h;a  nephew's  most 
cherished  scheme's ! 

Yet  it  \VIIH  m>!  Tho  ruin  of  Henry  hud, 
Uutnighti  boon  plotted  I 


xra. 


The  Ruin  of  Henry  Plotted,  nnd  tie  Cara 
van  jiron'idn  wit  hunt  him  —  The  Wontlm 
of  the.  (told  Hi'Kiun  —  Tkf.  fi»f<l  /funtrra 
itcainng  their  /farucst  at  last  —  The  Mo 
nomaniac  in  his  Ciot/ii  n  Jlli/sium  \ 

'  Gold  !    gold  !    yellow   gold  !  —  magic    is   its 

power  I 
Monarch  of  the  whole  world,  it   rules  each 

hour. 
Gold,  tho  great  victor  —  which  nor  bolt,  nor 

chain, 

Nor  bra/on  wall,  can  fcttornr  restrain. 
Gold  m-olls  nt  key*,  to  bonds  it  will  not  how; 
Gold  bends  proud  beauty  to  its  sordid  vow. 
Tho  virgin  zone  of  Daiun,  did  Xeuso, 
In  goldenshower  descending,  erst  unloose; 
Kev'ling  in  mnidcn  charms,  —  a  legend  old, 


Wherein   I   learned  the   mighty  power  of 

gold  I 

Ye  lovers,  from  Venus,  sweet  prayers  with 
hold- 
No  neud  of  these,  if  ye  have  only  gold  !' 

GRRRK  TRANSLATION. 


T  sunrise  the  whole 
party  were  up  Uetiines, 
all  full  of  eagerness  for 
nn  immediate  Htnrt.— 
l-'ach  moment's  necen- 
snry  detention  wus  fi  It 
as  aggravation ;  nnd 
Ihn  universal  impatience  could  scarce  brook 
tho  mom  unavoidable  delay.  Where,  how- 
over,  all  worn  equally  eager,  little  hindrance 
wan  likely  to  interpose  (  and  in  somewhat 
less  than  nn  hour  from  tho  assembling  of  the 
members,  the  signal  was  given,  und  ihe  ex 
pedition  got  under  way. 

The  company  consisted  of  tho  three  him- 
dred  passengers  of  tho  S— — ,  and  mounted 
and  equipped  fur  tho  last  grand  stage  in  their 
journey,  of  course  composed  quite  a  caravan, 
Up  tho'  Sacramento  their  route  lay  ;  for  a  little 
short  of  a  hundred  miles  they  were  to  follow 
its  course,  and  then  they  would  find  them 
selves,  at  tho  end  of  this  distance1,  in  the  heart 
of  the  (iuld  liegion, 

lusennibl)  Henry  Vernon  noon  caught  Iho 
exhilarating  infection  of  the  invigorating  ride 
— and  as  tho  buoyant  spirits  of  light-hearted 
youth  came  with  cheering  revulsion  buck  on 
him,  he  amused  himself  for  tho  first  hour  or 
HO  in  galloping  in  advance  of  the  more  leisure 
ly  moving  caravan,  und  passing  thu  whole  of 
tho  troop  in  review  on  Ins  return,  thus  allow 
ing  himself  to  observe  its  entire  oxtc«t  ut  his 
ease. 

Mule*,  in  place  of  horses,  were  quito  gene 
rally  employed,  ax  more  ruggod  and  service- 
ul  !«•  iu  tho  rough  mountainous  country  thro* 
which  the  caravan  was  to  pnss. 

It  was,  consequently,  with  some  passing 
surprise,  that  our  young  hero  noticed  among 
the  troop,  after  passing  nnd  rcpassing  it  seve 
ral  times,  unobserved,  what  sremed  to  bo  a 
speoies  of  covered  hono  litter,  with  wheels 
attached,  and  drawn  by  two  mnall  but  stout 
California!)  ponies,  ono  of  which,  in  tho  capa 
city  of  postillion,  n  tall  native  bust  rode, 

Curious  to  know    its  purpose  nnd  contents, 


KIT  CARSON. 


07 


Henry  reined  up  his  horse  by  the  side  of  the 
man,  and  put  his  query. 

'Oh,  'tis  one  of  the  company  who  pot  badly 
hurt,'  wns  the  reply,  in  mongrel  Spanish,  in 
*hich  tongue,  Henry,  rightly  judging  of  his 
Mexican  extraction  had  accosted  the  olher  ; 
for  his  collegiate  education  had  placed  more 
than  one  language  at  his  command  ;  '  one  of 
the  company  who  got  badly  hurt,  and  whom 
we  have  to  carry  thus.' 

'  Ah  !  whut  was  the  nature  of  his  wound, 
my  pood  fellow  ?' 

1  A  broken  arm  or  leg,  I  believe,'  replied 
the  postillion. 

Henry  started  slightly,  but  immediately 
said, — 

'  What  sort  of  a  man  is  h^,  my  friend  ? — 
old  or  young  ?' 

'An  old  man — unc  Americano!'  was  the 
careless  reponse. 

'  Ha  !  an  American  ?  His  name,  friend  T 
what  is  his  name?'  asked  the  young  man, 
riding  alongside,  and  speaking  in  a  familiar 
tone. 

'  Quirn  sabr. !  who  knows  ?'  rejoined  the 
California!!,  witli  a  Californian's  everlasting 
answer. 

lie  must  bo,  at  all  events,  a  strange  sort  of 
character,  who,  with  a  broken  limb,  would  be 
so  anxions  to  hurry  to  the  gold  regions?'  ad- 
ded  Henry,  carelessly. 

'  Quien  sabe  ?  L'oro  eot  Toro  !  Gold  is 
gold  !'  was  the  imperturbable  reply,  and  the 
postillion  jogged  on. 

'  I  suspoct,'  muttered  Henry,  emphatically 
to  himself. 

Without  farther  ado  he  cheeked  his  horse 
abruptly  beside  the  litter,  and  with  a  bold 
hand  lifting  the  curtain,  unceremoniously 
looked  in. 

He  dropped  it  again,  instantly,  and  his  horse 
bounded  on. 

'  It  is  as  I  suspected  ;  my  miser  uncle,  in 
spile  of  his  illness,  his  crippled  state.  Holy 
Heaven,  to  what  lengths  will  the  fiend  of  ava 
rice  drive  a  mi»n,  when  once  it  has  obtained 
firin  possession  of  him  1  The  insensate  crav 
ing  <  of  insane  cupidity  in  him,  uro  superior  to 
cvun  physical  prostration  ;  completely  hurried 
nway  by  his  avarice,  it  seems  he  has  procur 
ed  himself  10  bo  carried,  a  hclplew  cripple, 
to  the  very  feet  of  his  golden  idol !  Poor, 
poor  monomaniac  ! 

4  He  knew  me,  he  recognised  me  !— I  saw 
it  in  his  bleary  eye,  though  but  fora  moment 
I  caught  it.  Well,  well :  we  shall  see  what 


will  come  of  it.  At  all  events,  he's  my  uncle 
— I  will  remember  that.  I  must  keep  my 
eye  on  him,  however  ;  1  must  keep  my  eye 
on  him.' 

Thrice  during  the  day  tl»e  expedition  halt 
ed  ;  the  last  time  for  the  evening  meal  and 
for  the  night ;  the  caravan  having  accomplish 
ed,  without  incident  ten  Spanish  leagues,  or 
about  thirty  English  miles,  the  first  twelve 
hours'  journey. 

A  deep  mountain  gorge  was  their  halting 
place,  and  here  they  pitchf  d  their  tents  and 
refreshed  themselves  with  a  plain  but  sub- 
stantia'  supper. 

Each  mnn  Imd  his  respective  rations  ;  and 
Henry,  who  hud  taken  cure  to  provide  him- 
self  with  that  necessity,  as  a  portion  of  his 
outfit,  sat  with  a  bottle  of  wine  by  his  side,, 
breaking  his  fast  with  a  hearty  appetite.  He 
hud  refreshed  himself  ,  with  half-a-dozen 
glasses  of  the  welcome  Madeira,  which  he 
greatly  needed,  when  a  man  who  had  ap 
parently  just  received  his  own  allowance, 
consisting  of  the  simple  rations  only,  came 
and  sat  down  close  to  him;  chancing  to  etum- 
l.-le  over  the  young  man's  foot  as  he  did  so, 
for  which,  in  broken  Spanish,  he  heartily 
apologised. 

It  was  the  Californian. 

Henry's  attention  attracted  to  him  by  lift 
tiding  incident,  he,  bethinking  himself  of  the 
litter  and  its  occupant,  resolved  to  improve 
the  opportunity  to  elicit  whatever  he  might 
from  the  postillion  ;  and  as  tne  man  seemed 
tired  and  fatigued,  and  looked  more  (ban  once 
wistfully,  as  he  thought  Ai  the  wine,  our  hsro 
courteously  asked  him  if  he  would  not  re 
fresh  himself  with  a  glass,  and  passed  the 
bottle  to  him,  on  receiving  a  grateful  accept 
ance. 

The  Californian  took  several  deep  daughts, 
with  evident  relish  ;  but  he  was  either  very 
clumsy,  or  not  very  familiar  with  the  hand 
ling  of  such  luxuries,  for  it  was  some  mo 
ments  ere,  with  many  thanks  and  protesta 
tions  of  prutitin]  •  he  returned  the  bottle. 

'  Why,  we  have  not  half-emptied  it  yet, 
mnn,'  said  Vornon,  who  intended  it  should 
preface  an  immediate  conversation  on  an  im 
portant  point;  '  wo  must  finish  it  between 
us.' 

To  Henry's  smprise,  the  postillion,  who 
had  drank  with  such  visible  relish  before,  now 
declined  the  protu-re  I  civility. 

4  Drink,  my  good  man,  drink  !'  persisted  his 
host,  who  suspected  that  the  Span;ards,  like 


93 


KIT  CAKSON. 


moat  other  mon,  grow  confidential  in  their 
cups. 

The  dark-skinned  native  of  California  hesi 
tated  for  tho  nv.>  nont — then  look  the  goblet 
and  drained  it  to  the  dregs, 

Henry,  with  liiiowii  hands,  poured  another 

0  it  for  him,  which  was  also  drained,  without 
any  farther  difficulty  on  the   pnrt  of  thu  pos- 
tillion;  and  then  tilling  one  more  companion* 
jjluss  for  himself,  was   revolving  in  his  mind 
the   best  mode  of  opening  the  attack,  when  he 
fit  thu  tund    which   HOI   down  tho  emptied 
glass   tremble  slightly,   experiencing  also  a 
giddiness  of  the  head. 

'  1  have  drank  too  much  wine,  I  fear,'  he 
said  to  himxeir.  *  I  cannot  hear  MO  much  as 

1  have  been  accustomed  to,  on  my  still    weak 
stomach.' 

Tae  moment  afier,  ho  full  an  unusual  di/.- 
/incus  nbont  his  eyes,  attended  with  a  scntm* 
tionofttrftngo  drowsiness  ;  and  confirmed  in 
the  belief  that  ho  had  unintentionally  imbibed 
too  largely,  with  an  irresistible  inclination  to 
sleep,  ho  arose,  and  bidding  his  companion  of 
thu  cups  an  abrupt  good  night,  staggered  to 
hi*  tent. 

Ere  he  could  undress  himself,  the  stupor 
that  hud  so  suddenly  seized  his  faculties  to* 
tilly  overpowered  him,  and  he  sank  upon  the 
bed  in  a  state  of  torpor. 

The  Oilifornian,  meanwhile,  hud  arisen, 
and,  wi:h  a  slight  smile,  disappeared. 

Hnght  and  early,  on  the  morrow,  was  the 
caravan  in  motion,  and,  with  thu  rising  HUH, 
commenced  the  second  day's  journey  up  the 
Sacramento. 

A  rough  hand  put  aside  the  curtains  of  the 
litter;  and  ad  irk  face  looked  in;  while  from 
within  the  cracked  voice  ol  old  age  demand- 
cd,  though  in  tones  hushed  to  trembling  cau 
tion  : — 

MB  it  done,  Curl?' 

*  It  is  — 1  gave  him  tho  drugged  potion  with 
his  wine.1 

'  How  g — how  ?'  asked  tho  name  tremulous, 
eager  voice. 

4  1  slipped  the  powder  into  tho  bottle,  while 
pretending  to  fumble  with  the  cork  ! — he  in* 
vited  me  tot.ake  wine  with  him.  After  I  had 
drugged  it,  ho  prt*HNtid  mu  to  drink  moro.  I 
was  embarrassed  nl  'irst,  und  ut  fault  how  to 
act;  but  he  insisted  on  my  taking  it,  and  then 
1  bethought  me  of  pouring  the  liquor  down 
my  breast, while*  seeming  to  drain  the  last  drop, 
lint  he  helped  himself  again  to  thv  drugged 
wine,  und  that  just  settled  him.  lie  wvrit 


staggering  off  to  bed    and,  Caramba !  there 

he  will  be  likely  to  stay,  for  twenty -four  hours 
to  come  I1 

•  Hut  is  the  narcotic  sure?' 
•Sure!    Americano?      St.   Francis!    the 
young  cahallcro  wilt  not  waken   till  tho  sun 
bus  twice  gone  down  ;  the  sleeping  potion  has 
done  its  work,  trust  me,Seiior.' 

1  And  the  rest  ?'  said  the  miser,  speaking 
with  a  meaning  emphasis. 

All  i*  done.  In  tho  night  I  went  to  him, 
and  currying  him  a  little  distance  from  tho 
tent,  concealed  him  among  the  tall  bushes. 
He  was  in  a  death-like  supor,  senor.  The 
firstthiiig  this  morning,  1  unslaked  his  tent 
and  reloaded  tho  hprses;  they  are  now  safely 
on  tho  way  with  tbe  caravan — while  t/irir 
muster  remains  behind,  in  the  mountain-pass. 
Jfc  has  nut  tte.cn  missed,' 
1  And  when  will  that  he?' 
4  To-night,  herhaps— not  before.  By  that 
time  the  wolves  will  have  found  und  devoured 
him  (' 

From  within  the  litter  came  the  sound  of  rt 
gleeful  chuck1*1,  and  then  its  inmate  seemed 
to  bo  haggling  with  the  other  relative  to  the 
price  of  his  services, 

4  Nay,  nay,'  remonstrated  the  miser,  in  an 
expostulating  tone;  4  I  did  not  agree  to  give 
then  so  much,  by  half.' 

4  Demonio  !  but  thou  didst,  senor,'  retorted 
the  postillion,  sharply  ;  '  what !  dost  thou  reek 
to  chnat  me  of  my  pay,  now  that  tho  work  is 
dune  ?' 

4  No,  no,  good  Carl ;  but  you  ore  cxhorhi- 
taut,  very  exhorbitant  1  would  not  one-half 
repay  your  trouble?' 

4  By  San  Jago  !  have  a  care,  old  man  !— 
and  the  Cuiifornian  muttered  a  hoarse  threat 
to  undo  all  that  he  had  done,  by  nt  once  ap 
prizing  the  party  of  the  disappearance  of  one 
of  their  number, 

Tho  stern  menace  seemed  to  terrify  tho 
miser  into  keeping  good  failh  with  his  tool, 
for  with  a  heavy  sigh  ho  ceased  to  expostu 
late,  and  with  a  still  deepiy  gronn  surrender* 
ed  the  money  that  caused  him  such  un  tll'url 
to  pnrt  with,  saying, — 

4  Thorn  I  Hike  it ;  it  wan  only  a  joke — only 
a  joke  !  Hut  it  leaves  me  poor,  very  poor  ; 
it's  hard  to  take  the  last  ha'penny  from  a  poor 
old  man  !' 

The  Californinn  received  tho  money  with  n 
well-plrnsrd  smile,  and  was  withdrawing  to 
resume  his  character  of  postillion,  when  tho 


KIT  CARSON. 


misrr  called   him   back,  and    addrei-sed  him 
with  the  word?, — 

'  You  nrc  sure  it  was  him  1 — there  was  no 
mistake  in  the  person  :' 

4  Carnmhii,  no !  it  was  the  snmo  Americano 
\vho  questioner]  me  uo  closely  yesterday,  an<l 
ended  hy  looking  in  at  yon  through  the  cur 
tains — the  same  that  you  hired  mo  to  follow, 
and  dog  his  footsteps,  the  night  before  the 
expedition  started.  A  Culiforman  never  mis 
takes.' 

The  man,  once  more  dropping  the  palan 
quin  curtain,  mounted  his  pony,  and  the  litter 
moved  briskly  forward. 

4  Good  !  good  !'  muttered  the  elated  miser, 
gleefully;  '  very  good  indeed  !  The  sou  will 
be  torn  to  pieces  by  wild  beasts  in  the  gorge, 
and  the  fathei  will  no  lenger  have  an  heir  to 
his  fortune — the  fortune  he  swindled  my 
children  out  of. 

4  flfy  children  /'  he  repeated,  with  a  start ; 
4  I  wonder  what  can  have  become  of  them  ? 
— how  cunningly  they  have  concealed  ihem- 
selves  from  me  these  many  years — where  are 
they  ?  Well,  well,  a  family's  expensive — 
very  expensive!1  added  the  old  man,  as  if  to 
console  himself  by  the  reflection  ;  4  yes,  yes; 

1  8'iould  have  been  ruined, anil — and but 

it  matters  not  ;  this  nephew  of  mine  is  out  of 
my  way  at  last — I  thought  I  should  find  some 
«me.ms  to  rid  me  of  him,  when  we  came  to 
California  together  !  I've  not  poisoned  him, 
though — not  murdered  him — no.no! — only 
given  him  a  little  laudanum  in  his  drink — 
ami — and  the  wolves,  the  wolves  will  do  the 
rest.1 

Steadily  the  caravan  of  the  Gold  Seekers 
pursued  its  course. 

To  the  mining  region,  from  the  walls  o 
San  Francisco  it  was  some  five  days'  travel 
Along  the  Sacramento  continued  the  expedi 
lion  ils  course  ;  fording  in  its  way,  success 
ively,  the  Hi"  de  los  Americanos  aod  the  Ilia 
Turn  os. 

Frequently  the  expedition  encounteied  nu 
merous  parties  of  Indians,  who  seemed  going 
likewise,  in  the  direction  of  the  mines,  one 
who,  whether  awed  by  its  numbers  or  equally 
anxious  to  reach  the  golden  regions,  did  no 
attempt  to  molest  the  party;  which  found  it 
security,  also,  in  its  numerical  strength,  from 
the  wild  beasts  with  which  the  country  was  in 
Tested, particularly  in  the  wild  mountain  gorge 
through  which  wound  the  serpentine  Sacra 
mento. 

It  was  twelrc  o'clock  on  the  fifth  day  when 


10  three  hundred  adventurers  of  the  Sacra- 
mento  descended  the  gradual  slope  leading  to 
le  centre  of  the  Talley.  From  the  surround- 
ng  highland,  on  every  side,  poured  down  a 
undred  little  stream*  and  rivulets;  and  in  the 
evel  pliiin  below,  where  met  the  sparkling 
waters,  far  as  the  eye  could  reuch,  were  seen 
countless  host  of  human  forms,  with  bodies 
out,  ntid  spade  anrl  picknxe  shining  in  the 
leridian  sun.  It  was  Gold  Diggers  tliatthey 
aw  at  their  work  ! 

'The  Gold  Diggers!  the  Gold  Diggers!' 
echoed  each  voice  amid  the  three  hundred 
new  comers,  who,  from  the  heights  above 
ooked  enviously  down  upon  the  tireless  la 
nders  below. 

Each  bit  was  pressed,  each  bridle  tighter 
Irawn,  each  mule  was  made  to  feeltho  spur, 
as,  without  one  cheer,  without  one  shout,  in 
breathless,  speechless  eagerness  all,  the  whole 
troop  broke  into  a  gallop,  as  by  one  simulta- 
reous  impulse  at  the  inspiring  sight — the 
pectncle  for  which  each  thirsting  soul  had  so 
long  panted,  and  dashed  like  madmen  down 
the  acclivity  I 

Down,  down!  and  on,  on!  with  rein  un- 
lackening  pace  all  unrelaxed,  the  troop 
rode  on.  Onward  !  as  if  a  loosed  legion  of 
pursuing  fiends  were  at  their  back,  and  1'ar- 
adise  itself  before. 

Paradise,  indeed  !  an  earthly  paradise  it 
seemed. 

Nearer  and  nearer,  as  in  their  reckless 
speed  they  sped  along,  drew  they  to  the 
sparkling  streamlet.',  with  their  glittering 
sands  and  their  flashing  waters,  darkened  for 
miles  along  by  the  thousands  searching  for 
their  secret  store.  As  on,  still  on,  like  the 
wind  they  came,  perspiring  at  every  pore, 
their  starting  eyes  h'xed  on  -the  scene  before 
them;  who  shall  describe  the  feelings  of  each 
manly  breast? 

Thrilling,  exciting,  poul-conviilsing,  indeed, 
was  that  scene  !  Too  va?t  in  numbers  to  be 
counted,  outspread  as  on  a  chart,  was  the 
nrmy  of  the  Oold  Diggers  of  tkt  Sncramnito. 
In  the  streams,  ankle-deep,  bringing  up,  at 
each  dip,  the  sand-mingled  dust  ot  the  pre 
cious  ore — on  the  shores,  in  parties  of  three 
and  four,  washing  and  sifting  the  golden 
atoms  ! — some  with  the  simplest  tools,  some 
with  labor-saving  machines,  in  the  dried-up 
beds  or  the  mountain  streams,  gathering  the 
precious  metal  in  glittering  scales  ! — on  the 
rocks  above,  in  the  clefts  and  crevices  of  the 
clifls,  wiih  pick-axe  and  spade,  lay  ing  open  to 


100 


KIT  CARBON, 


view  thenhining  globules  of  pure  gold,  in  mi- 
nuto  but  preciou*  particles— what  a  ucene  t 
what  a  spectacle  t 

ltd  daa/ling,  bewildering  influence,  wni 
munifcMt  on  every  man  of  tho  new-comers. 
Ad  they  reached  the  valley,  gained  its  midst, 
rode  at  the  tmtne  desperate  pace  in  among 
the  myriad  of  operatives,  more  than  one  poor 
horse  id!  dead  by  the  way.  But  their  un 
horsed  riders  paused  not,  hulled  not  for  that, 
and  last  as  their  hapless  steeds  gave  out, 
their  owners  left  them  to  die,  and  sped  after 
the  troop  on  foot 

On,  on — still  on,  they  hurried;  for  all  of 
three  miles  after  the  first  outpost  of  the  busy 
miners  was  gained  ;  onward  in  eager  quest 
of  an  unoccupied  area  of  gold  strewn  land, 
Hullkieutly  large  to  nccommodute  their  entire 
party. 

At  lust  they  found  it,  though  .not  until  milo 
after  mile,  and  hundreds  after  hundreds  of 
toiling  laborers,  hud  been  hurried  precipitate- 
ly  by  ;  euch  glimpse  of  tho  successful  opera 
tives  tiring  their  blood  to  tho  fcver-heut  which 
hunmn  excitement,  in  its  greatest  intensity, 
reaches. 

Hut  here,  at  length,  ia  a  bend  of  tho  glid 
ing  Sacramento,  with  u  hundred  tiny  springs 
running  down  Irom  the  mountains  to  swell  its 
gold-freighted  waters,  they  discovered  th-> 
sought  for  plucc. 

With  the  necessary  tools  and  implements, 
they  were,  of  course,  fully  provided,  and 
having  the  advantage  of  being  an  organized 
company,  they  entered  under  the  most  lavor- 
ahlu  circumstances  upon  tho  fascinating  labor 
before  them. 

Stragglers  there  wore,  though  unwilling 
lingerers — comprising  those  whoso  horses  had 
in  Die  headlong  rido,  fallen  victims  to  their 
master's  eagerness.  Among  them  appeared 
also  a  palanquin,  drawn  by  two  ponies  and 
driven  by  a  single  postillion 

It  halted  among  tho  gold-diggers  ;  n  peevish 
hut  excited  voice  cried  out  from  within  ;  and 
ere  Carl,  the  Californun, could  throw  himself 
from  Ins  postillion's  seat  to  answer  tho  sum 
mons,  tlio  curtains  of  John  Vernon's  litter 
wore  drawn  quickly  aside,  and  tho  crippled 
miser  threw  himself  bodily  from  his  couch — 
foil  to  the  ground,  staggered  up  ug^in,  his 
wounded  limb  bending  under  him  like  a  wil 
low  wand. 

AH  his  glistening,  :>iml<e-like  eye  marked 
tho  millliuns  of  gkturing  atoms  with  which 
sparkled  and  (honed  the  gold-mingling  sands 


he  uttered  t  cry  of  exulting  avarice,  of  tri 
umphant  cupidity,  and  with  limb*  and  body  to 
thoir  utmoHt  temiion  nnmtmtched,  ai  if  to 
group  tho  wholo  wealth  of  California  at  one 
insatiate  clatch,  threw  hiiimclful  full  length 
on  that  tnhsuianic  Boil,  while  in  mnninc  inco 
herence,  thai  soul  perverted  old  man  shouted 
forth,— 

1  Mine,  mi.ie ! — Gold  ! — gold  ! — millions  on 
millions  of  gold  !  Away,  uway! — ye  shall 
not  touch  it — ye  shnll  not  have  one  grain  of 
it!  It  is  mine,  mine,  alone!  Awuy,  1  toll 
ye,  away — I  will  have  it  all — yes,  all!  What 
right  have  yo  to  it? — touch  it — touch  one  sin 
gle  atom  of  it,  if  ye  dare  !  Gold — gold  in 
exhaustible r — more  than  all  the  riches  of  the 
Indies — it  is  mine — mine  all !  —  gold,  blessed, 
blessed  gold  !• 

And  over  the  Bpnrkling  sand*,  over  the 
glittering  gruiim.ovpr  tho  prccionnHum  of  the 
Sacramento,  cowered  and  grovelled,  in  his 
insane  ecstacy,  tho  miser — the  C!  aid-mono* 


Thf  Prairie  on  Fire— The  Flight  from- the 
Conjtoffration—A  Race  with  the  Burning 
Element—Kit  Carson's  Protege—  The  boy 
Edward,  and  a  Discovert/. 

From  the  fire-fiend  fly  ! 
Speed  !  Oil,  speed  ! 

The  flames  nre  nigh- 
Great  is  our  nuud ! 


Y  Car«on  and  his  com 
panions  is  our  attention 
claimed,  onco  more. 

'  The  prairie  is  on 
fire!  tho  prairie  is  on 
firo  !— ride  !  ride  !'  were 
tho  last  words  of  Kit 
Carson ;  and  words  more  thrilling,  words 
more  full  of  stattling  terror,  never  rang  upon 
the  ears  of  the  fear-stricken  auditors. 

The  gallant  hunter  waiving  hid  hand,  had 
darted  on  before,  the  clattering  of  his  horse's 
hoofs  mingling  with  that  ringing  cry.  And 
as  that  shout,  that  warning  shout  rang  out, 
Eugene  and  tho  boy  Edward  took,  also,  the 
alarm,  and  plying  whip  and  rein,  their  stout 


KIT  CARSON. 


101 


ponies  dashed  alonjr,  almost  blindly  at  first, 
until  a  friendly  voice  arrested  their  uncertain 
course. 

•Slop  !  hoth  of  you  stop  !  Where  are  you 
going  ?  This  way,  this  way  !' 

Recalle  I  to  himself  by  the  startling  in 
junction  and  the  demand  that  preceded  it, 
Lincoln,  bending  forward  in  his  saddle, 
grasped  the  bridle  of  the  young  boy,  and  has 
tily  directing  aright  the  course  of  his  own 
and  his  IBS*  collected  companion's  horse,  fol 
lowed  on  the  hunter's  track. 

Kit  Carson  had  halted,  suddenly,  and  wait 
ed  for  ihem  to  come  up,  when  he  perceived 
their  mistaken  course  ;  and,  once  more  side 
by  side,  the  three  horsemen  dashed  on, 
abreast. 

The  first  faint  glow  that  had  been  perceiv 
ed  from  the  direction  of  the  cnnip  had  now 
reddened  and  deepened  into  a  lurid  glare, 
that,  with  each  instant  increasing,  was  fast 
wrapping  the  whole  horizon  behind  them  in 
o  ie  fiery  illumination,  growing  as  rapidly 
higher  and  more  bright, clearer  and  more  dis 
tinct. 

'  On,  on  1'  cried  Kit  Carson,  '  the  prairie, 
for  miles  aronnd,  is  fijed — on,  on  !  The  fire 
will  overtake  us.' 

Like  madmen  they  rode,  but  his  words  were 
tvie.  Fast  fled  their  horte's  feet,  but  fus  er 
followed  the'pursuing  flames  !  But  still  was 
heard  the  hunter's  encouraging  voice, — 
'  On,  on  ! — we've  a  mile  the  start !' 
At  the  same  mad  rate  sped  they  along,  for 
hilf  that  distance  further;  and  by  that  time 
the  sky  in  their  rear  seemed  to  be  one  sea  of 
waving  fire,  while,  far  in  advance  of  the 
barning  prairie-scourge,  they  could  hear  the 
d  slant  roar  of  the  flames,  and  feel  the  heated 
\\r  borne  on  by  the  rushing  wind* 

Ever  directing,  ever-cheering,  every  other 
moment,  was  set  more  loudly  audible  the 
hunter's  inspiring  voice  ;  as  onward,  with 
might  and  mam,  they  urged  their  frightened 
ponies,  which  snuffed  from  atar  *  the  tainted 
gale.' 

Suddenly,  and  with  so  abrupt  a  shock  as  to 
aha'  •»  even  the  fiimly-seated  hunter  in  his 
saddle,  the  full-blooded  pony  which  he  rode 
baulked,  stood  still,  inhaled  the  air  ahead 
three  or  four  times,  then  uttering  a  low  neigh 
of  delight,  broke  into  a  gallop,  and  set  off  in 
a  direction  nearly  at  right  angles  from  its  for 
mer  one. 

It  was  in  va'm  that  Carson  tugged  and  puM* 
ed  tt  the  bit :  the  hone  had  taken  it  be- 


tween  its  teeth,  and  the  rider  lost  all  control 
of  him. 

The  brow  of  Kit  Carson  darkened  not ;  not 
even  was  his  determined  lip  compressed  ;  but 
a  smile,  a  cool  smile,  even  showed  itself 
about 'the  corners  of  bis  mouth;  yet  he  was  on 
the  eve  of  executing  a  desperate  purpose.  He 
saw  that  he  Hhd  ceased  to  have  longer  any 
command  over  the  animal,  but  he  was  result 
ed  not  to  leave  his  companion!  to  be  thus 
separated  from  him  in  their  keen  extremity  ' 
— and  yet,  how  was  it  possible  for  him  to  pre 
vent  it. 

He  rose  in  his  stirrups,  he  drew  forth  a 
knife — a  knife,  tnrn  from  the  belt  of  one  of  the 
sljjiin  savages — he  raised  it  high  above  that 
part  of  the  horse's  arching  neck,  where  flowed 
the  life-current  of  the  jugular  vein — he  had 
determined  on  killing  the  beast  that  bore  him, 
as  the  only  means  of  stopping  it  in  its  uncon 
trollable  career. 

Ere  he  struck  the  blow  he  turned  his  head 
and  saw,  to  his  great  surprise,  that  the  other 
horses  had  followed  the  example  of  his  own, 
and,  with  their  riders,  were  following  scarce  a 
length  behind. 

This  discovery,  of  course,  caused  him  to 
abandon  the  design,  and  he  culled  to  Eugene 
and  Edward  to  give  their  ponies  fre.e  rein, 
and  see  what  would  come  of  it  ;  while  the 
two  summoned  breath  to  demand  — 

'  rtut  what  is  the  matter  with  the  horses? 
what  possesses  them  ?' 

The  hunter's  head  sunk  thoughtfully  on  his 
breast. 

'  I  have  it !  1  have  it !'  he  c*'ed ;  *  it  wu  " 
water  they  scented  just  now.' 

'  Water!'  echoed  Lincoln  and  th*  lad,  to 
gether. 

'  Water  ! — yes,  water  1    We  must  be  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  river  again  ;  it's  cour«c  is  wind-  * 
inp,  like  a  sarpint's  !'  cried  Curson,  excitedly. 
1  Now  look'ye  both  1  if   we  can  only    get    to 
the  river  afore  the  fire  overtakes  us,  we  are  * 
safe!' 

Once  more  back  upon  the  fiery  foe  he  sent 
his  keen  eyed  glance.  The  others  turned,, 
too ;  but  their  eyes  were  almost  blinded  by  the 
bright  and  dazzling  light.  The  fire  was 
now  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  them— 
the  deepening  roar  of  the  flames  was  like 
the  thunder-sound  of  a  waterfall — the  atmos- 
phere  was  almost  stifling,  from  the  fearfully 
increased  heat,  and  the  suffocating  smoke  that 
preceded  the  advancing  column,  which  came 
with  frightful  celeritj  on,  sweeping  the  tall 


KIT  CARSON. > 


before  it,  as  chaff  before  the  reaper'* 
scythe. 

Onward,  onward  rolled  the  mighty  volume, 
an  ''i^ith  of  «  mile  in  ihioknes*  ami  a  *cor« 
of  iinies  in  ItMii'th  ;  forward,  forward,  in  a 
semi-circle  "tretchingout ;  while  onward  and 
forward,  before  its  accumulating  terrors,  (led 

the  fugitives,  * 

But  whit  WHS  animal  speed  or  hum. in  nerve 
to  cope  with  the  burning  element  ?  R  ipidly, 
•  O  how  rapidly,  diminished  the  distance  that 
yot  separated  them  from  the,  fell  destroyer 
that  roired,  and  Inssyd,  ami  crackled  ut  their 
back? 

Lincoln,  himself,  felt  Taint  and  giddy,  and 
half  sutFoc  ited,  with  hit*  blinded  vision  bcarce 
clear  enough  to  see,  for  an  instant,  the  boy, 
reel  more  than  once  in 'his  saddle,  HS  if  with 
the  8ame  deadly  f'amtoess,  ihat,  in  a  lu»s  de 
gree,  also  ulll'Cted  himself. 

Overcome  by  the  dreadful  oppression,  he 
wan  about,  helplessly  to  reUx  his  hold  of  the 
rein  and  abandon  himself  to  bis  fate,  wh'Mi, 
like  mi  iiiiir-'I's  voicu  of  mercy,  wus  heard  the 
cry  from  Carson,— 

'  The  river !  the  river !  I  see  it !  I  see  it ! 
Yonder ! — inure  !  For  God's  Hake  don't  give 
up  now  !' 

The  words  of  hope  seemed  to  put  renewed 
strength  ami  po^or  of  endurance  into  both-— 
a  fiint  cheur  answered — the,  threo  rode  on— 
the  water,  in  another  insunt,  came  into  full 
view  1 

But  '.he  fire  was  near — O  God  I  how  nenr! 
It  !)!isiere<1,  "'  burned,  it  scorched  them,  as  it 
roared  along,  not  three  hundred  yards  back. 
Behind,  lik'j  an  ocean  of  molten  gold,  WHS  the 
ruling  (ire,  hotter,  fiercer,  greater  than  ten 
thousand  furnaces  thrown  into  one  ;  before, 
like  a  sheet  of  melted  silver,  lay  the  rippling 
river  of  the  burning  prairie.  Ten  rods,  only, 
ahead  it  lay — could  they  reach  it?  it  was  but 
halftho  distance  the  pitiless  H  imes  hud  to 
ft  tin,  but  three-fold  grei'.u  r  WHS  their  spued  1 
Oh,  fur  onu  moment  of  limit  ! 

Mark!  that  terrible  'uoigh  l--lhe  norm  • 
have,  soen  the  water,  mid  every  nervo  they 
•Tain  -fearful  their  speeit  I  Hut  ha  I  them 
in  a  sudden  splash—  Unother — and  yet  a  third. 
The  stout  steeds  have  gained  the  river,  and 
leiped  in,  wuh  their  riders  I 

'  Saved  I  saved  !  but  into  the  middle — into 
the  middle  of  the  river  all  I  or  the  heat  from 
the  shore  will  consume  ye,  like  the  sun* 
scorched  prairie-flower!  Out!  out  into  the 
stream  I1 


And  scarce  spoken  was  the  warning  when 
the  fire  reached  the  water's  brink. 

There,  recoiling,  gathering  into  ono  mon 
strous  volume  of  concentrated  strength  and 
violence,  it  seemed  to  rnge  in  redoubled  fury 
MI  being  HO  suddenly  stayed  in  its  devastating 
course. 

The  heat  from  the  baffled  flames  was  tre 
mendous,  and  fortunate  proved  ihe  timely 
caution  of  Kit  (/arson,  for  only  by  pushing 
their  panting  humes  into  the  centre  of  the 
stream,  as  far  as  possib'e  from  the  burning 
shore,  did  they  escape  being  scorched  to 
death  ! 

But,  as  through  the.  water  horses  and  liders 
struggled,  there  wn*  a  sudden  shriek  from  tho 
river — a  loud  splash,  and  a  terrible  cry  Irorn 
Lincoln, — 

•  The  boy,  Carson !  the  boy  !  he  has  faint 
ed  and  fallen  !' 

And  the  young  man  leaped  from  his  own 
horse  HUD  the  stream  ! 

•  O  (Jo  I !  my  poor  Edward  !  my   boy  !  my 
boy  !'  groaned  H  voice  of  agony  ;  and  the  bun* 
ier  himself  followed  the  generoiH  Lincoln.— 
Once,  twice,  thrice,  did  Carson  div«,  HIII!,  as 
many  times  rising,  saw  no  trace  of  either.—- 
Once,  indeed,  he  imagined  he   lumrd  a  faint 
shout,  and  hi*  mime  hoarsely    pronounced.—- 
Hut  i hi-  terrific  blaze,  from  the  opposite   bank 
lighted  up  the  whole  expanse  of  the  river,  and 
threw  every   fathom  of  water  into  bright    re 
lief,  save  where,  close  in  shore,    its  dii/'/.ling 
brilliance  blinded  the  gaze,   still  nothing  of 
them  wns  visible. 

The  form  of  the  heroic  hunter  quivered 
with  a  wild  and  fearful  tremor,  and  H  hollow 
moan  of  unutterable  misery  broke  from  the 
penMip  fortress  of  hi-  breast ;  but  at  the  same 
moment  a  cry— this  time  plainer,  louder  than 
before— -reached  him,  and  from  thai  portion 
of  the  stream  dii'ec'ly  under  the,  r»gmg  fire, 
and  in  the  midst  of  the  daz/ling  brightness 
which  made  the  objects  beneath  it  totally  h  - 
visible. 

This  time  the  hearing  of  the  htmler  could 
not  deceive  him,  and  ho  fancied  that,  evnn 
through  the  blinding  glow,  he  mice  or  twice 
discerned  the  outlines  of  a  human  form.  And 
then,  forth  from  the  prairie  fire's  iia//.lmy  re* 
(lection,  forth  from  the  Itemed  ntmusphero, 
now  list  to  sight,  now  quickly  reappearng 
upon  the  bright  surface,  issuud  a  struggling 
figure. 

Carson  swam  to  meet  it,  and  not  it,  alone ; 


KIT  CARSON. 


103 


for  a  second  and  a  slighter  form  was  it  sup 
porting,  with  a  desperate  energy. 

The  intrepid  hunter  hastened  to  relieve  the 
during  Lincoln  of  his  burden,  and  together 
they  swnm  t«  the  o'her  bank  ;  bo'h  of  them 
sl-nvly,  for  Lincoln's  strength  was  well  mgh 
spent,  And  Carson,  though  strong  and  vigoi- 
ous,  was  encumbered  with  a  living  weight. 

When  both  emerged,  at  last,  from  the  river, 
they  (oiiml  their  horses  had  already  clnmber- 
ed  up  the  bench,  where  they  stood  nhakina 
nnd  resting  themselves  after  their  dreadful 
race,  atid  gazing  bnck  in  mute  wonder  Ht  the 
fiery  danger  they  h  td  esc iped.  But  little 
lice  i  gave  either  to  the  poor  beusts  that  had 
served  them  so  well. 

Lincoln,  completely  exhausted,  had  sunk 
down  helplessly  upon  the  ground,  beside  the 
motionless  figure  of  lira  youth,  whom  the  sor 
row  ng  hunter  had  laid  tenderly  on  the  grass; 
with  a  countenance,  whose  expression  of 
keenest  anguish  touched  the  other  lo  the 
heart. 

•lie  is  gone!  h«  is  gone!'  he  heard  the 
gi*l>in^  Carson  falter,  in  a  hollow  tone  and 
a  tnuclnnjr  accent,  wholly  free  from  a  taint 
of  the  frontier  dialect;  realizing  at  once  hia 
suspicions,  that  it  was  ever,  in  a  measure,  as- 
KiiMied  with  him.  '  My  God  !  he  is  gone,  and 
Kit  dtr*on  is  desolate  !  Poor  boy  !  hard  — 
liar  I  has  been  your  lute,  and  hitler  your  end  ! 
Aim!  belter  would  it  have  been,  perhaps, 
li  ul  I  never  taken  you  from  the  wild  savages 
with  whom  I  found  you,  a  cart-less  child — 
you  might  have  been  spared  this  untimely 
end  !' 

'  Fro>n  the  savages?'  iterated  the  astonish 
ed  Lincoln. 

*  Yes,  stranger,  yes;  I  found  him,  when  a 
beautiful  boy  of  soven,  in  an   incursion  with 
my  hunters  upon  one  of  thd  wandering  tribes 
ol  the  wilderness,'  wait  the  mournful  reply. — 
'  I  took  a  f  mcy  to  the  hoy — he   was  the  only 
one  lit'  them  we  left  alive— we  had    attacked 
Ihem  MI  self  defence.' 

*  Surely,1  exclaimed  Eugene,  who  hnd  for- 
gotten  his  exhaustion  in  his  surprise,  'surely, 
in  thi-t  handsome  face,  this  fair  complexion , 
and  these  graceful  limbs,  there  can   be  nul  a 
trace  of  Indian  blood.' 

4  Nur  is  there  !  The  boy,  doubtless,  is  a 
•tolen  child.  The  Indians  otten  conceive  a 
fancy  for  the  beautiful  children  of  the  pale- 
f«ce»,  as  they  call,  us;  as  such  thefts  are 
nearly  as  common  with  those  Ravage*  as 
with  •  -* 


'  T.ie  Gipsies,  you  would  say — those  of  the 
Old  World.' 

'  V  cs,  stranger,  nnd  the  Indians  are  the 
Gipsies  of  the  prairie.  Hut  this  was  more 

thai  'en   years   ago — and — and Oh,  my 

God  !   how  that  poor  boy  has  grown  around 
my  heart  !' 

'  And  he — Edward?  has  he  been  much 
with  you ?' 

*  Always,  stranger,  always:  ever  since  that 
time.     He  has  been    my   companion    in   the1 
forest  ano'  in  the   prairie,  in   scouting  parties 
and  exploring  expeditions — in    every    adven 
ture  he  has  shared.     I  have  been  ever  careful  • 
of  him,'  sighed  the  hunter,  '  and  yet    1   havo  ' 
sought  to  harden  him  to    danger    and  to    toil, 
to  make  him  orave  and  skillful  in  everything, 
but  still,  still ' 

4  Surely  you  do  not  mean  thnt  your  paini 
have  been  lost  upon  him  ?  lie  is  no  cow* 
ard,  I  will  slake  my  life  upon  it,'  interrupted 
Lincoln,  eagerly. 

'  Cincnrd  !'  echoed  the  hun'er,  fiercely— 
but  controlling  himself  :  '  a  friend  of  Kit  Car* 
son  a  toward.  Take  cnre,  sir  f  take  car*>l— - 
I  have  struck  a  man  dead  at  my  feet  for  as 
small  a  word  as  that.  There  1  there  !  forgive 
me,  stranger  ;  1  was  hasty  and  passionate- 
hut  Kit  Carson  never  could  bear  that  word— 
'  coward.'  No,  no;  the  boy's  no  coward,  not 
he — I  have  seen  him  fearless  att  a  panther, 
and  know  him  to  be  brave.  But,  but  what  I 
meant  is  this, — he  never  quails  at  danger,  he 
is  ever  ready  to  meet  it  us  my  boldest  hun 
ter,  but  he  is  tender-hearted  as  a  woman,— 
he  cannot  bear  to  harm  a  human  being.  I've 
M-  MI  him  turn  aside  from  a  writhing  worm, 
and  plead  for  a  wounded  deer  I  You  saw, 
youisclf,  how  relieved  he  seemed  when  I 
proved  that  it  WHS  by  my  hand,  not  his,  that 
the  savage  hud  died  who  sought  my  life  in  the 
forest — it  took  a  heavy  load  Irom  his  heart, 
that  was  plain.  Slrai.ger,  'tis  iln-j  very  in* 
consist* -ncy  which  has  always  so  nuch  puz 
zled  me !' 

'  Then,  as  he  is  brave,  'tis  a  beautiful  char 
acter  I'  was  Lincoln's  ready  exclamation; 
'  tjtid  yet,  'tis  the  attridu'e  less  of  a  man  than 
a  woman— 1  like  the  youth  still  the  better 
for  it.* 

'  And,  to  tell  the  real  truth,  stranger,  to  do 
I  I  love  him,  because  in  something  he  is 
different  from  myself.  I  should  lose  all  pa 
tience  with  him  at  times,  when  that  lender 
heart  of  his  is  begging  for  mercy  for  every 
red  skin  and  wild  beast  tbat  crosses  our  p«ik 


101 


KIT  CARSON, 


—but  hark  t  tell  me,  stranger,  is  that  boy 
dead  or  not  ?'  faintly  moaned  the  humor,  with 
team  in  his  eyes. 

*  He  in  not !  life  ho*  not  yet  left  him,*  oried 
Eugene,  n«  ho  placed  hid  hnnd  upon  the  brow 
of  the  Houseless  youth,  and  then  removed  it  to 
the  wrist 

1 1  thought  no,  too,  stranger,  but  didn't  <!nro 
to  believe  it,  for  fadings  deceived  me.  Hut, 
(mrk'yo,  Mr.  Lincoln,  if  llmt  be  your  name, 
you  were  brought  up,  I  see  plainly,  Among 
the  town  folks  who  are  used  to  ihesn  fainting 
fits  and  the  liko,  and  know  exactly  how 
to  trout  them—but  Much  things  are  not  nnt'rul 
to  Injuns  and  hunters,'  added  the  frontiers. 
man,  gradually  resuming  the  brond  border 
tccoiu  ho  loved  so  well,  now  that  ho  found  the 
danger  at  an  end.  They're  ounatrnl  to  us, 
and  we  don't  know  how  to  doctor  'em ;  but 
you,  stranger,  you're  a  better  hand  at  the 
business  than  Kit  Curson.  1  dur'uent  trust 
myself  with  sich  thing*.' 

Lincoln  smiled  slightly  at  the  honest  hunt 
er's  speech,  and  acting  upon  the  implied  re 
quest,  proceeded  to  exort  his  bust  means  for 
the  hoy's  iccovery. 

The  gigantic  frontiersman  stood  with  foldod 
arms  watching  him  as  he  chufod  the  hamls 
and  war  mad  the  cheek  and  lips  of  the  life* 
lens  l«d. 

More  than  once  the  hardy  hunter  murmur* 
ed  ejaculations  of  approving  delight  at*  he 
•aw  (he  color  faintly  sUiuling  buck  to  the 
beautiful  fuco  of  the  poor  boy,  and  paw  his 
ohost  faintly  heave  with  the  first  Hofl  drawn 
•aspirations  of  returning  animation. 

As  the  hunter  gu/cd  on,  a  sound  that  ho 
did  not  as  fully  approve,  caused  him  to  start 
suddenly  forward,  and  glancing  out  on  the 
green  expanse  of  pruirie-grnss  that  stretched 
in  its  pride  Irom  the  bank  on  which  they 
they  stood,  so  striking  in  its  contrast  to  the 
blackened  and  still  flaming  waste  on  the  op* 
posite  shore. 

Intently,  breathlessly,  ho  listened — it  was 
evident  that  something  was  occurring  to  put 
every  faculty  once  more  on  the  alert. 

But  hiit  companion,  Lincoln,  pro-engaged,, 
noticed  not  thin  midden  movement,  continu 
ing  unremittingly  to  chafe  the  young  boy's 
cheeks  and  hands,  and  nut  restoring  anima 
tion  5  his  thoughts  completely  engrossed  in 
the  situation  of  one  lor  whom  ho  hud  con* 
f.  ooived  an  interest,  the  depth  and  intercut  of 
which  he  found  it  somewhat  difllcult  to  do- 
fmo. 


Just  at  the  moment  he  perceived  the  limbs 
of  the  reviving  youth  quivering  with  the  first 
tremulous  motion,  while  his  breniit  now  hegun 
to  hoove  with  a  labored  and  difficult  brnnth* 
ing,  and  necking  to  relieve  him  in  some  dr. 
greo  by  thu  invigorating  contact  of  the  fresh 
air,  Lincoln  gently  proceeded  to  open  the 
graceful  hunting  jacket  worn  by  tho  lad,  and 
wan  loosening  tho  upper  loops  of  the  garment 
when,  us  hi*  ryn  full  upen  tho  partiully*ox« 
posed  bosom  of  tho  young  boy,  he  started,  ut* 
tered  an  exclamation  of  astonishment  and 
doubt,  and  then  drawing  the  covering  a  little 
moru  anido,  ho  remained,  as  if  spell-bound, 
his  fuHcinated  gaze  rivetted  where  it  had 
fallen,  his  breath  coming  short  and  hot  thro* 
his  parted  lips,  his  glance  still  fixed  and  gloat 
ing,  mid  his  own  breast  heaving  as  if  with  in 
ward  fire  ! 

Tho  whole  was  but  momentary  —  an  inward 
struggle  Hcrmod  to  take  plncu  ;  and  then, 
with  a  somewhat  abrupt  movement,  ho  ro» 
placed  the  (olds  of  the  boy's  jacket  over  his 
exposed  breast  again,  slowly  ejaculating  as 
ho  did  NO,— 

'lleuveim!  irinit  a  ditrovtry  !  Can  Kit 
Carton  be  ignorant  of  this  V 

Out  a  second  exclamation,  full  as  startling 
though  k'sH  mysterious,  wns,  utmost  the  snine 
instant,  givon  to  the  air;  but  this  time  it  was 
Carson  that  spoke,  — 

1  To  horse  !  to  horse  !  Those  incarnate 
devils  have  crossed  the  river  and  fired  the 
prairie  on  both  sides  1  —  we  have  not  even  yet 
escaped  I* 


The  Fruits  of  the  Fire—  Thf  New  Dart  Ren 
in  its  train—  The  motutcr  If  ml  of  Jluf. 
faloes—  The  Superhuman  Skill  and  I)ar» 
ing  oj  Kit  Carton—  A  Fortunate  Jlen< 
contret  and  a  Happy  Issue. 

4  Ay,  now  I  am  in  Arden;  the  more  fool 
I  ;  when   I    was   at  homo  I   wa*  in  a  better 

place  ;  but 
Travellers  must  be  content.' 


ROM  security  and 
hope  to  danger  and 
ir,  how  awful  is 
the  revulsion  I  Such 
was  the  s)unning  trnns* 
ition  which  (he  feelings 
of  both  Lincoln  and 


KIT  CARSON. 


105 


Carson  were  doomed  to  undergo,  at  that  terri 
ble  moment  which  had  given  birth  to  acouble 
discovery. 

'  Demons  that  they  are— impossible  !'  fal 
tered  the  former,  in  his  consternation. 

The  hunter,  without  a  word,  pointed  to  a 
faint  line  of  light  that  caught  the  eye,  for  dis 
tant  on  thepnurie,  but  directly  ahead  of  their 
new  course. 

Like  the  fire  they  had  but  just  esccpe,  it 
was  swifily  coming  down  on  them  in  the  form 
of  u  burning  crescent.  Even  Lincoln's  in- 
expemnced  eye  told  him  that  they  were  now 
bcttcfrn  ttco  fres !  he  saw  the  murderous 
precau'.ion  taken  by  the  savages  to  cut  off  all 
escape,  and  assure  their  death — and  he  shud 
dered. 

But  horrors,  like  misfortunes,  love  to  accu- 
late  :  they  did  so  now. 

4  Stranger,  this  is  nr*  all !  Sec  !  see,  away 
yoriiler,  in  advance  of  the  new  fire,  do  you 
see  a  broad,  black  ppot  ?' 

Lincoln's  only  answer    was  a   convulsive 

'  yef; 

*  Then  mark  me,  stranger,  we  are  between 
two  fires,  but  thtit  is  not  the  worst  of  the  dan 
ger.     Say,  have  you  the  least  idea  what  that 
dark  spot  is  ?' 

'  In  Gc'd's  name,  not  I !  It  appears  to  be 
moving.' 

'  It  is  moving — moving  like  the  wind  !  It 
is  a  herd  of  buffaloes,  driven  before  the  fire  ! 
They  are  making  (or  the  river — for  the  river, 
do  yon  hear  ?' 

*/vnd — Carson!  and ' 

'  In  fift-en  mmutes  from  now,  we  shall  be 
trairpleil  to  death  !' 

'  In  fifteen  minutes  from  now  ! — surely  in 
that  limcour  horses  can  bear  us  out  of  their 
way?' 

.  'There  you're  wrong  again,  stranger.  The 
poor  brutes  never'll  carry  us  five  miles  in 
one  quarter  of  an  hour,'  replied  the  hunter, 
quietly 

*F»e  miles! — what  mean  you?  You 
•peuk  in  riddles.' 

*  Do  I  ? — then   I'll   spe<*k   plainer.     That 
drove  of  bisons  yonder,  is    from  four  to    five 

•  miles  broad,  and  coming  on  at  the  very  top 
of  their  speed.  Don't  look  so  astonished,  for 
on  the  honor  of  Kit  Carson  it  is  true !  The 
prairie  fire  h.s  gathered  herd  after  herd  to 
gether  ;  and  here  the  scared  bensu  come,  as 
fast  their  legs  will  carry  them,  making  right 
for  the  water — they  know  it's  their  only  rt- 
curitjr.  They'll  bear  us  down  before  them 


likea  land  slide  in  the  mountains — the  centre 
of  the  herd  will  cross  the  river  at  this  very 
spot,' 

4  Good  God  !  is  there  no  means  of  escape  f" 
cried  Eugene. 

4  Just  stop  a  moment,  stranger,  and  I'll  tell 
you.' 

And  Lincoln  did  keep  silence  while  he  saw 
the  other  turn  toward  Hie  opposite  side  of  the 
river  and  mutely  surve'y  the  shore  from  which 
they  had  so  fortunately  escaped. 

The  brief  time  that  had  elnpsed  since  they 

last  last  looked  thitherward,  had  sufficed  for 

the  consuming  element  to  sweep   that  portion 

of  tho  prairie  clear  of  every  blade  of  the  tall 

grass  that  had  proudly    moved    there   a   few 

j  hours  before,  and  the  fire,   having  exhausted 

I  its  fuel  in  iliat  Quarter,   had    retired  rapidly 

|  from  the  river  bank  and  rolled  away  in    the 

!  distance,  leaving  behind  a  blackened  waste  of 

smoking  stubble,  where  so  lately  all  had  been 

a  sea  of  flame. 

Lincoln  caught  the  hunter's  eye,  and  the 
look  of  Eugene  said,  plainly  as  words, — 4  Is 
there  hope  in  that  quarter? — can  we  not  re- 
cross  thfi  river,  now  that  the  flames  have  re- 
treated  T' 

Kit  Carson  shook  his  head,  negatively, 
answering, — 

1  No!  we  should  escape  the  fire  from  this 
side,  but  not  the  her:) — they  will  cross  all  the 
quicker  for  this.  Nevertheless  you  shall  yet 
be  saved,  stranger,  or  KilCarson  will  die  with 
you.  I  have  not  saved  your  iife  so  often,  but 
that  I  can  save  it  again  I  Stay  !  have  you  a 
flint  about  you  ?  1  want  to  strike  a  light.' 

4  Alas,  no  !  the  savages  left  me- nothing, — 
But,  perhaps,  in  the  knapsacks  of  the  hsrse* 
you  might  find ' 

4  A  good  thought !  The  Injuns  always 
carry  them — 1  might  have  thought  of  that ; 
and  going  to  the  baskets  which  answered  th»- 
purpose  of  twiddle-bags,  he  found  in  each  of 
the  rude  panniers  of  the  stolen  ponies,  the 
article  he  needed. 

One,  however,  was  sufficient,  and,  pos 
sessing  himself  of  it,  he  turned  quickly  to 
Lincoln,  saying  in  his  natural  tone: — 

4  Leave  the  lad  for  a  moment — he  is  fast 
reviving,  I  see — and  conr.e  hither.  Gather 
half  a  dozen  strong  withes  of  grass  and  bin*' 
it)  j  horde's  feet,  so  they  cannot  move  at  liber 
ty — they  must  be  fettered;  quick!  b*fo»» 
they  take  the  alarm.  No*  help  me  to  pu' 
up  tho  dry  grass  for  a  space  of  about  ten  le« •• 
square.  God  grant  you  nimble  fingers  I— 


KIT  CARSON. 


Quick,  quick,  make  IIUKIH!  and  when  w«'vo 
done,  lead  ihu  liurvm  into  the  cleared  *pnci'k, 
and  gather  thuin  close  together  Bring  the 
boy  with  you  and  place  him  nearest  to  the 
river." 

Theun  order*  had  been  given  and  execut> 
ed  with  the  greatest  rapidity.  They  were 
not  accomplished,  however,  without  Home  loss 
of  time,  uud  tho  lii'rtirini  clearing  was  tll'iicled 
and  tho  wh  ;le  purty,"mcn  und  horses,  were 
collected  within. 

The  excitement  incident  on  these  active 
prepunilionti  hud  not  tilluwed  other  sights  and 
sounds  to  distract  their  attention  ;  and  when, 
after  all,  thoy  stopped  to  bn-utlie  and  look 
around  once  more,  though  Curson  retained 
his  composure,  the  lean  experienced  Lincoln 
could  not  refrain  from  u  cry  of  uwe  struck 
wonder  at  what  he  beheld. 

That  which,  so  few  moments  previous,  hnd 
appeared  a  long  black  spot,  hud  now  luMMNwd 
tlie  luok  of  u  thundercloud,  ten  fold  increased 
in  its  upparent  length  and  maguitutir  ;  though 
visibly  .advancing  with  whirlwind  speed,  it 
still  deemed  like  one  solid  mass,  driven  lor* 
ward. by  some  mysterious  impulse. 

1  Five  minutes — only  five  minutes  more  !' 
in  a  suppressed  tone  the  hunter  whispered  in 
Lincoln's  ear. 

The  beating  of  their  hearts  kept  time  with 
the  lapse  of  seconds ! 

At  u  spoe.d  thuUeemed  to  distance  time  it* 
•elf,  tho  moving  mass  came  on — a  IIIUMH  no 
longer;  for  now  they  could  clearly  make  out 
the  bulky  outlines  of  the  monstrous  nnimi.ls, 
in  countless  myriads,  nnd  distinguish  (be 
shaggy  head  and  enormous  limbs  of  the  N. 
American  bison. 

With  inconceivable  velocity  the  immense 
herd  net  toward  the  river ;  the  Around  shaking 
with  their  tremendous  tramp,  the  air  reverhe- 
rating  thejr  deep-mouthed  bellows;  pressing 
close  upon  each  other  to  thu  depth  of  hun 
dreds  upon  hundreds  of  yards,  and  stretching 
out  to  the  right  and  to  the  left  for  u  league  on 
either  hand,  onward  ruling  like  a  mighty 
army  in  retreat;  headed  by  a  single  louder, 
an  enormous  and  grix/ly-bourded  bull,  with 
inflamed  eye-bulls,  erected  mane,  und  hurri* 
cane  of  hair. 

'  O  Qod  of  Heaven  !  another  moment  and 

we  Khali  be  trodden    under   foot— ground  to 

powder  beneath  i|)U  countless  monsters'  hoofs 

— Curson,  we  are  lost  I     There  are  tens  of 

*     thousands  of  them  1* 

1  Hist!1  cried  the  hunter,  calm  and  cool  as 


nil  u-ii. bound  •truitm,  Ho  Ntrpt  to  \\w  front 
of  the  little  clearing,  he  ftruek  th«  flint n'one, 
the  tinder  ignited  instantly— he  cunt  it  down 
on  the  edu»i  of  the  grits*, 

Immediately  the  eraeklingvof  flume*  innrio 
Itiwilf  heard,  and  siinultunHou^ly  n  bright  hlu/e 
leaped  up  and  spreed  along  (he  unplucked 
gruHit  beyond,  und  nprarg  as  if  to  meet  the 
hurryiitg  herd  in  tin-ir  headlong  approach, 
with  the  sl»ock  of  whirh  the  i-'nrth  neemed  to 
tremble  to  its  rentio,  the  rushing  in  air  nearly 
Inking  away  their  breath  — when,  just  tin  Lin 
coln,  surrendering  all  hope,  saw  the  whirl 
wind  of  Itrmching  horns  levelled  »t  the  do- 
voted  spot,  the  whole  mighty  mass  about  to 
crush  them  under  foot,  the  leader  of  tl  e  drove 
was  suddenly  seen  to  halt  abruptly,  swerve 
from  the  kindling  wrath  of  flume  that  met  him 
in  bis  course,  and  dart,  with  a  strange  bellow, 
on  one  H  de. 

Tina  bellow  seemed  to  be  a  signal  that  nil 
recognised,  with  the  wonderful  sagacity  for 
whii'h  the  American  bison  is  distinguished  ; 
for  dividing  right  nnd  left  on  either  bund,  the 
herd  of  buffaloes  swayed  aside  from  the  fire 
that  crossed  their  path,  one  wing  following 
their  leader,  the  other  taking  the  correspond 
ing  course  on  tneirown  side,  leaving  an  open 
centra  of  nore  than  a  hundred  )ards  square, 
in  which  i ho  perilled  little  group  stood  now 
unharmed. 

The  vacuum  left  in  the  clovon  ntm<  sphere, 
nnd  the  returning  concussion  of  the  cloNing 
air,  overthrew  both  the  hunter  and  his  friend} 
hut  when  they  quickly  regained  their  leet, 
they  were  for  a  moment  completely  stunned 
by  the  cat  tract-like  roar  of  the  boiling  \\uters 
behind,  mud  which  the  whole  herd  were  la« 
boring  and  lloiinfWmg,  snorting  with  terror, 
those  from  behind  pressing  on  those  before, 
und  trampling  and  bullocaiing  each  other  in 
their  furious  haste  ;  so  that  not  more  than  two 
thirds  of  the  numberless  host  of  the  kingly 
buffaloes  reached  the1  opposite  bank  ulivel 

Meanwhile,  the  third  fire  that  bad  thus  beeu 
the  fortunate  means  of  frightening  the  herd 
from  their  c«urse,  had  rolled  on,  grudmilly 
gathering  strength,  until  met  by  the  mightier 
volume  before  which  tho  terrified  bisons  hud 
fled, 

Tho  forethought  of  the  hunter  hnd  combined 
a  double  purpose,  and  the  two  fi rex  meeting, 
fought  each  other  ;  but  though  the  larger  body 
conquered,  it  found  no  food  for  its  wrath 
where  the  lesser  scourge  had  passed  before 
it,  and  it,  too,  liku*the  original  conflagration 


KIT  CARSON 


107 


on  the  opposite  shore  of  the  river,  died 
away,  nt  last,  lor  the  wunt  of  further  fuel 
to  its  fury. 

11  is  own  peculiar  smile  upon  his  resolute 
lip,  Kit  Carson  turned  and  looked  his  com 
panion  full  in  the  face.  4 

'  V\  hai  do  you  think  of  that,  stranger  ? — 
That's  what  we  call  '  killing  two  birds  with 
one  stone'—  fire  10  fight  fire,  and  drive  back 
the  buffaloes,  both.' 

'Mm  of  exlwustless  expedients  and  indom 
itable  courage,'  agitatedly  uttered  Lincoln, 
grasping  the  hunter's  bund  and  pressing  it  to 
his  lips  ;  '  no  hero  in  bailie  ever  <ui passed 
such  feats  of  matchless  daring!  Again  1  owe 
you  my  life.' 

'  Stranger,  K>t  Carson  likes  actions  bettor 
than  words  !  You  saved  that  poor  hoy's  life 
there,  where  many  a  stunt  hunter  would  not 
have  dared  to  go  ;  and  I've  not  forgotten  that 
you  put  H  bullet  into  the  shoulder  of  that  ras 
cally  ret). skin  who  thought  to  catch  me  imp- 
ping.  [  want  no  better  thanks  than  »hose! — 
Hut  all  danger's  over  now,  and  so  lei's  be 
moving  once  more  again,  stranger.  These 
two  fires  have  swept  the  prairie  clean  of  every 
bla^e  of  grans  an  inch  high,  for  twenty  mile* 
around  on  each  side  ol  the  river.  I'll  untie 
the  horses,  and  if  hdward,  poor  fellow,  is 
ablt*  to  be  moved,  the  quicker  we're  off  the 
better.' 

*  Edward  !'  repeated  Eugene  ;  '  is  he  then  j 
unaware * 

He  checked  himself  and  said  aloud, — '  I 
though  he  had  nearly  revived  at  one  time, 
but  probably  the  shock  of  finding  us  about  to 
be  trampled  to  death  by  those  dreadful  beasts 
may  have  unstrung,  afresh,  his  weakened 
nerves — perhaps  have  caused  him  to  swoon 
again.' 

Such  proved  to  he  the  case.  The  hoy,  who 
had  fainted,  was  lifted  in  the  strong  arms  r>f 
Carson  and  tenderly  placed  npon  one  of  the 
horses,  and  arose  the  question,  how,  in  his 
present  helpless  condition,  they  were  to  dis 
pose  of  him. 

M  will  carry  him  ;  my  horse  is  strong,  and  I 
will  carry  him  before  me  !'  exclaimed  Lin 
coln,  eagerly. 

'  Very  well,  stranger  ;  but  be  careful  of  the 
poor  boy.  'Twill  be  better  so,  perhaps,  for 
some  o'  those  red  devils  might  be  prowling 
around,  now  (hut  the  fire  they  kindled  for  us 
is  over,  in  search  of  our  bones,  an  like  as  not, 
*nd  I  bid  Ujstbe  on  the  look-out  for  a  time, 
*t  least.' 


And  mounting  their  re«poctive  horse*,  wilh 
the  young  hoy  on  the  saddle  before  him,  and 
tied  \ty  th«/  hunter's  sash  to  his  waist,  Lincoln, 
with  hi-  gallant  companion  and  preserver  once 
more  set  forward. 

The  delight  of  Eugene  was  scarcely  to  be 
moderated,  as  now  he  found  life  and  liberty 
thus  unexpectedly,  and  after  so  many  hazards, 
restored  to  him. 

Occupied  in  their  own  reveries,  they  rode 
on  at  a  rapid  rale,  in  silence,  for  some  time; 
but  at  h>t  the  hunter,  glancing  nt  Lincoln 
and  his  charge — who  was  beginning  to  dis 
cover  signs  of  recovery  once  more, — he 
abruptly  asked, — 

1  Stranger,  how  did  you  manage  to  secuTe 
the  poor  boy  as  you  did,  and  when  the  water 
hud  carried  him  undfrthe  burning  grass?— it 
was  a  bold  thing  1' 

*  A  mere  nothing.    1  found  the  current  had 
swwpt  (he   poor   child  thither,  mid  1  swum  ns 
tiear    HH  possible  and  dived  for    him.      1  grnp- 
pled  the  body  and  rose  with   it,  hut  the  heal 
WHS  so  intolerable  I   could    scarcely    breathe, 
and  again  I  dived,  and  swam  under  water  out 
of  reach.      Me  must  bnve  fainted    and    lallen 
from  his  hor«r,  from  shee;  exhaustion    when 
we  gained  the  river.' 

1  Still  it  was  a  daring  thing  in  you,  stranger, 
to  snatch  him  from  death,  right  in  the  jaws  of 
that  cursed  fire— a  during  thing,  and  it's  Kit 
Carson  who  says  so,  and  he  ought  to  know  ; 
enough  !  it's  made  me  your  friend  forever  ' 

4  Carson!  dearest  Carson  !' — a  faint  voice 
faid. 

»  Edward — my  boy  !'  and  the  hardy  hunter 
drew  his  own  horse  closer  up,  t^at  he  might 
press  a  kiss  upon  the  lips  of  his  protege. 

A  faint  flush  flitter1  across  the  cheek  of  the 
youth,  as  he  murmured, — 

'  Oh,  Carson,  what  a  wild  dream  I  have 
had  !  I  dreamed  of  perishing  by  the  prairie- 
fire,  of  being  drowned,  and  of  being  trodden 
to  death  by  buffaloes  !' 

-'  And  narrowly,'  said  Eugene,  fervently, 
1  have  you  escaped  them  all.' 

The  hoy  started  and  looked  up  at  him, 
seemingly  bewildered  it  the  petition  in  which 
he  found  himself,  while  his  benefactor  inter* 
posed,— 

•  Thank  the  stranger,  Edward  ;  thank  him, 
He  saved  vou  from  drowning,  as  you  dream* 
ed,  in  the  river — he  nearly  lost  his  own  life 
in  looking  after  yours  I     God  bles»  him  !  he's 
a  man,  every  inch  of  him.' 

'  Did  be  T  O  did  he !'  exclaiaied  the  youth, 


108 


KIT  CARSON 


•peaking  in  the  rich,  melodious  tones  Lincoln 
hud  »o  often  remarked;  then  I  will  love  him 
denrlj  !' 

And  the  boauliful  boy  gazed  up  in  Lin* 

coin's  face  with  such  a  ^til-speaking  expres 
sion  of  fervent  grulilude,  that,  while  it  exert- 
,  td  ft  stranger  influence  upon  him  than  the 
bold  Carson  knew,  cuused  the  hunter  himself 
to  repeat,— 

'  That  look  tells  me,  stranger,  that  ho  will 
love  you ;  and  with  his  whole  heart  ami  soul. 
I  irr\  glad  the  boy  Ims  taken  such  a  liking  to 
you,  though  it's  rather  strange  in  him,  Mr. 
Lincoln ;  he's  a  shy  Ind  and  n  bftanful  one, 
and  he  never  seems  to  like  to  be  away  from 
m«,  or  to  associate  with  my  good  huntors  in 
the.  camp/  suit!  Carson,  once  more  forgetting 
bin  hul>itui\l  modti  of  speech  in  the  interest  of 
his  thought)*;  while,  us  he  t>poke,  the  hand- 
a  urn-  eheok  of  ihe  boy  crimsoned,  und  ho 
held  clown  his  head. 

As  he  heard  the  onennd  marked  the  other, 
Lincoln  muttered  to  himself,—4  /  can  gurss 
,  the  reason  now  /' 

But  the  boy  ha  I  txvjce  fainted,  and  watt  yet 
.  very  weak,  too  wciik  U.  spouk  much,  urid  Lin* 
coin,  joining  with  Curson,  earnestly  besought 
him  not  to  nttempt  it ;  and  with  such  evident 
.interest,  that  he  seemed  ut  once  drawn  to  him, 
and  sinking  back  on  his  supporting  arm,  gaz- 
ed,  trustingly,  up  in  his  countenance  arid  con 
tinued  in  Nit  thiiH,  confidingly  looking  from 
Kugnio  to  tho  hunter,  a*  it  tho  youth  felt  that 
he  hud  found  u  now  and  faithful  friend  in 
his  supporter, 

Bleep  and  fatigue,  however,  soon  overpow 
ered  him, and  ho  slumbered  sunnily  on  the 
hoi.-e's  middle,  with  Lincoln's  sustaining  arm 
mussed  round  his  wiiist,  his  breast  pillowing 
his  voutliful  head,  while  the  merchant's  clerk 
looked  thoughtfully  down  on  tho  ingenuous 
anJ  beautiful  countenance  of  the  prairie- 
boy ! 

They  had  ridden,  in  silence,  several  miles. 
Carson  and  his  companion,  when  suddenly 
the  hunter  roHO  in  his  stirrups  und  uttered  a 
shrill  whistle. 

The  Mignnl,  if  signal  it  WHS,  was  answered 
•  almost  instantly,  seemingly  from  many  voices, 
the  air  boro  back  the  echo  of  horse's  feet,nnd 
the  next  moment  a  troop  of  twenty  or  thirty 
men  on  horsebuck  galloped  up  with  loud 
shouts, 

4  Ha !  my  brave    hunters  I    do   we   meet 
again  ?' 
1  Is  it  you,  Captain  Carson  ?  then  we're  not 


too  late.  We  were  out  in  search  of  those 
cussed  red-skins,  but  we  saw  the  prairie  afire, 
and  thought  the  Pawnees  might  have  been 
burning  the  camp,  We  had  to  ford  the  river 
ouruelves,  to  get  out  o1  the  way  of  the  fire  \ 
but  we  didnU  care  for  that.  We  were  de 
termined  to  find  out  what  hud, become  of  our 
Kit  Curson  ' 

•Hurrah  for  Kit  Carron— owr  Kit  Carson!* 
echoed  on  every  side  from  the  gallant  hun- 
ivrM,  us  they  clustered  hround  their  idolized 
lender. 

»  Thank  you,  my  fine  follows/  replied  the 
chief;  '  and  now  get  ready  for  an  immediate 
start.1 

1  In  pursuit  of  the  Pawnees?  in  pursuit  of 
the  red-skins  ?'  asked  twenty-enger  voices  ; 
but  ere  he  could  muko  i.iv  rejoinder,  Eugene 
Lincoln  guided  his  pony  to  the  hunter-chiei'a 
side,  and  with  uomn  ngilHtion  mild,— 

'Carson,  my  friend—if  so  I  may  cull  you, 
1  have  one  request  ;o  make—is  it  asking  too 
much  to  ask  you  to  grant  it  ?' 

I  Out  with  It,  stranger/  said  the  other ;  '  I 
will  not  deny  it.' 

»  'Tin  thm,  then  :  when  you  found  me  fly* 
ing  from  the  Pawnees,  I  hud  lost  my  wsy  in 
the  wilderness — wandered  lor  days  and  dis- 
covered  that  1  had  gone  back,  instead  of  ad- 
vaticing.  1  know  not  these  trackless  wilds; 
and  if  we  separate,  I  may  prrish  like  a  dog 
in  ilui  wilderness,  Buy  1  is  it  mjueMing  t<n> 
much  of  your  goodness  when  I  rtsk  if  you, 
who  know  every  prairie  path  und  forest  trail, 
will  not  be  my  guide  to  that  destination  1 
should  a  week  since  1'rtve reached,  and  where, 
on^e  gained,  I  fondly  hoj>ed  that  wealth  and 
fortune— —but  you  smile— you  will  not  then 
guide  me  to— to  •*  , 

•To  th»«  gold  mountains— to  tho  minus?  Is 
it  not  so  ?' 

*  It  is— if  is  1     I  am ' 

'  A  California  Adventurer!' 

•Yes.' 

I 1  suspected  so,  stranger,  all  the  while.— 
Whui  elttH  should  bring  such   us  you  to  the 
wilderness !' 

'  You  will  not  refuse  me,  then  ?'  eagerly 
implored  Lincoln, 

4  Refuse  you  !  Set  your  mind  easy  on  that 
score,  stranger.  You  thull  bo  in  thn  mines 
in  four  days'  time,  My  brave  hunters  and  I 
are  bound  for  the  fold  mines,  ourselves  ;  we 
know  a  shorter  path,  and  we  know  a  richer 
harvest  ground.  We  will  lead  you  where  you 
shall  find  the  precious  metal  you  seek,  in 


KIT  CARSON. 


109 


glittering  lumps,  not  delve  and  dig  in  tie 
valleys  lor  paltry  gold  dust !  Come  with  u:, 
come,  stranger,  you  shall  never  regret  llu 
day  that  you  lost  yriur  way  in  the  prairie,  and 
made  the  Prince  of  the  Gold  Hunters  your 
friend  ! 

'  Forward !    my   men,   forward  1    for    the 
mountains  above   the   mines!     Forward,  for 
•  the  Sierra  Nueva  P 

And  the  chief  of  the  treasure-seekers  waved 
his  hand  proudly  to  his  men.  as  he  pointed  to 
the  breaking  d;iy-light  in  the  east,  and  then 
turned  hia  finger  in  the  direction  of  the 
western  sky. 

Each  man  of  the  gallant  troop  understood 
the  signal  ;  each  man  knew  that  that  night's 
mighty  conflagration  had  swept  every  trace 
of  their  late  encampment  from  the  prairie, 
and  that  westward,  to  the  broad  Pacific,  their 
course  now  lay  ;  and  as  that -picturesque  cav 
alcade  of  the  wilderness  dashed  on,  the  bold 
borderers,  ever  anil  anon,  as  they  thought  «f 
their  golden  destination,  would  break  forth 
into  the  enthusiastic  cry,  so  familiar  amid  the 
treasure  teeming  hills  of  California,— 

'  Hurrah !  hurrah  for  Kit  Carson,  the 
Prince  of  the  Gold  Hunters  \  Hurrah  !' 


22. 


A  Golden  Paradise—  The  Prince  of  the 
Gold  Hunters  in  the  Treasure-Care  — 
The  Confession  of  poor  Harry's  Fate  — 
A  Sudden  Reappearance. 


NOTHER,  still  an- 
other  arrival  !  was  the 
simultaneous  cry  of  the 
thousands  of  busy,  toil 
ing,  unshaved  Gold- 
i  Washers,  on  the  banks 
of  the  Sacramento, 
tome  five  days  later  than  the  events  narrated 
in  the  preceding  chapter. 

But,  as  a  troop  of  some  twenty  stalwart 
horsemen  rode  in  »mo.ig  them,  then  were 
many  of  the  same  voices  that  exclaimed, — 

4  No  1  no!  it  i«  Kit  Carson  and  his  hunters, 
returned  again  to  the  mines!  Hurrah,  boys! 
hurrah  ! — but  for  him  and  old  Captain  Sutler, 
— [of  Suiter's  Fort,  the  co-discoverer,  with 
Carton,  of  the  golden  secrets  of  California]  — 


we  should  not  now  be  digging  gold  here. — 
Long  life  to  Kit  Carson  ! — thank  him,  lads, 
we  own  our  good  luck  to  him  P 

Sush  were  the  welcome  cries  that  saluted 
the  llrro  oj  the  Gold  Regions  as  one  after 
another,  scores  of  the  treasure  searchers  left 
their  alluring  occupations,  to  crowd  around 
the  man  to  whose  daring  enterprise  and  in- 
Tepid  explorations  the  world,  at  this  moment, 
owes,  in  part,  the  unveiling  of  the  most  pro 
lific  source  of  mineral  wraith  that  ever  at»- 
bnished  mankind  since  the  Creation  ! 

But  Carson  himself  did  not  pause  long  to 
riceivo  their  eager  greetings,  not  did  the 
tr»op  come  to  a  halt,  but  soon  pressed  for- 
wird  as  before  ;  for  each  man  had  his  orders, 
and  the  chief  himself  whispered  warningly  in 
the  ears  of  Lincoln  and  the  now  wholly  re 
stored  Edward,  as  he  rode  by  their  horses' 
side,— 

4  Beware  !  do  not  let  these  good  people  yon- 
dor  once  suspect  that  in  the  mountains,  not  in 
the  valley  we  mean  to  reap  our  golden  har 
vest.  They  must  not  think  but  that  we  are 
riding  on  in  search  of  an  unoccupied  spot  to 
commence  operations  in  the  snm«  manner  as 
themselves.  If  they  have  so  much  as  the 
merest  hint  that  our  route  lays  farther  }">t, 
and  to  a  region,  richerthan  is  known  to  them, 
they  will  leave  their  gold-washing  nnd  follow 
us,  like  fo  many  hungry  wolvt's, — for  they 
know  thn»  if  any  man  livipg  is  likely  to  pos 
sess  such  knowledge,  it  is  I.  Breathe  not  a 
word,  then,  but  forward,  quietly,  to  the  Sierra 
Nueva — 'tis  but  a  short  mile  distant,  and  one* 
reached,  gold,  in  incredible  quantities,  we  art 
cer.ain  to  find  there  !  For  months  I  have  kept 
it  a  secret — as  secret  ns  the  grave  !  Forward, 
forward  P 

And  forward,  mindful  of  the  warning,  press 
ed  the  troop,  bent  on  escaping  the  shadow  of 
suspicion  of  their  true  purpose  !  But  the  pre 
caution,  though  not  in  vain,  was  not  wholly 
successful. 

As  the  cavalcade  clattered  on,  one  of  the 
few  gold  washers  who  hud  not  leA  his  work 
at  the  signal  oLKit  Carson's  return,  now  hob 
bled  slowly  fonfi  from  the  stream  in  which 
he  had  stood  up  to  hia  ankle  ;  and  hastily, 
loading  himself  with  the  glittering  dust  and 
golden  scales  which  he  had  accumulated,  in 
a  small  but  invaluable  pile,  from  the  washings 
of  the  sand,  he  took  his  way  wiih  a  halting 
gait  and  a  painful  step,  a  short  dmtance  far* 
ther  down  the  Sacramento. 

Stopping,  at  length,  by  the  side  of  a  tall, 


110 


KIT  CAR* 


dark  man,  in  a  Spanish  somhrnro,  who  wns 
bending  in  a  eroucUmg  po«ture,  aifnntf  a 
quantity  of  shining  particles  in  a  tinuill  sieve, 
which  l>e  h  untied  with  the  greatest  dexterity, 
The  latter  looked  up,  at  the  approach  of  the 
other. 

Ere  he  could  speak,  the  mumbliii;;  voice/ 
.characteristic  of  old  «ge  was  hvurd  eager!/ 
ej  n:nl  tiinir  the  words,-—  V 

'Is  It  you,  Curl?  1  came  expressly  ftr 
you  1' 

1  Si,  Sttnor  Americano;  und  what  may  y«u 
want  now,  imbed  I  he  deep  voice  of  our  quon 
dam  aciju  limance,  the  postillion.  , 

'  Pell  me,  was  not  that  troop  of  men  who 
junt  |).i>M«d  hy,  iht>  fimouH  Kit  Carson  andhis 
men  r*1  Irecnulouxly  rlflmnmlnd  tue  old  m*er, 
in  lirnkMii tones— for  it  was  John  Vuron,  the 
nv.Miomnniac. 

'  YDS,  y»'H,  Sonor;  nr.swered  the  Gd'ifor 
fiiun,  impatiently  ;  *  but  why  do  you  come  to 
hinder  MID,  old  uiiin  /  I  have  near  a  hundred 
dollars  wiii'ih  of'duHi,  gathered  in  this  spot.— 
Uy  .Sun  I'ub'o,  St'iiu",  lot  me  linihh  my  day's 
work  !' 

4  Hush  !  hinh sh !'  whispered  th<  miser, 

•carc.e  ahouu  his  breath.  'Don't  you  pee—- 
don't  you  Himpect  7  Kit— Kit  GurHon— -'twus 
h«i  (hut  fir«t  discovered  the  ^old,  wa«\  not  ?— 
lit  ini.it  know  where  'tin plentiust— plenties!, 
do  you  hear,  and  most  abundant  ?  See  I  his 
men  do  not  stop  in  the  valley—  look  !  look  ! 
thoy  are  getting  out  of  si^ht  as  fast*  as  ilu-y 
can— they  mean  to  ^'ivfl  IH  in  thu  valley  the 
•lip!  '/'/in/ don't  Klop  to  WIIH!)  ^old  diMt  in 
Mtrcum*— nut  «ln»y.  Curl,  Carl !'  cried  the 
'iiisi!r,  with  headlong  avidity,  •  get  me  a — a 
horse— a  horse,  good  lello-.v.and  we'll  follow 
think,  Car  I  r 

The  Culifornian  started,  and  his  black  eyes 
Rparklcd  almosi  ax  eagerly  us  the  luiM-rV— 
With  a'i  approving  look  he  sirucl;  his  hand 
upon  his  powerful  thigh,  exclaiming,  with  a 
Spaniard's  :  re.— 

'  Uueno  I  buerto  1  good,  Senor,  good  !' 
while  ho  mutt'irt- d  in  his  own  lungunge,— 
1  Situtn  Man.i!  the  old  nun  b  the  devil  him* 
•elf  for  cunning  I  DemoniW!  Cart  Lopez 
thought  himself  something  of  a  fox:  but,  hy 
my  patron  anint !  I'm  fairly  outwitted  this 
time.  Yes,  I  II ' 

Hut  the  miser's  voice  cut  him  short,  calling 
nervously,— 

1  Quick  !  quick  !  get  the  horses ;  you  shall 
share  with  mtv-tlitt  was  the  agreement.  But 
muko  more  haste,  you  sluggard  !  or  the  men 


vill  he  out  of  night,  and  we  shall  lose  them  in 
ih«  mountains.' 

The  California  used  all  possible  diligence, 
and  in  ten  minutes,  two  hor««H  wor«  in  reitdi* 
ness— stolen,  as  Cart  well  know,  for  the  pur* 

HI>. 

Having  hec-n  nssisted  to  mount,  with  the 
precious  fruits  of  several  days*  ^old-washing 
n  his  saddle-hugs,  the  old  man  and  his  guide 
set  lor  ward  at  a  brink  pace,  from  tin*  mining 
ground, -not  a  little  to  the  surprise  of  Vermm's 
follow. ptiHsengors  in  the  ship  S— ,  hut  en 
tirely  unnoticHd  by  the  great  body  of  the  ub- 
Morhed  (Jold  Diggers 

But  here  we  rniiNt  ienve  them,  to  return 
once  more  to  Kit  Carson  and  his  men. 

The  latter,  all  unconscious  thut  their  mo* 
live  had  been  N\iH;»(H't(td,nii(l  their  movement)* 
dogged,  had  moanwhilo  pursued  thnir  way, 
breaking  into  a  sharp  cnnter  an  soon  ns  the 
mountain  p  MSCS  hid  thum  from  th»  observa* 
jion  of  the  unHU*picioutt  gold  wushors  in  the 
vtvlley. 

k  Halt  1'  cried  a  voice  of  command,  as  they 
drew  up  in  a  dark  defile  of  the  pas**  at  the 
huso  of  a  mighty  mountain  which  towered 
moru  than  a  thousand  feet  above  their  heads, 
grand  and  magnificent,  covered  with  smiling 
green  verdure  at  its  foot,  hut  its  summit  cun> 
ped  with  eternal  snows :'  Leave  the  horses 
here — tether  them  ;  and  be  ready  all  to  climb 
thu  mountain  !  Uuick  !  let  there  bo  no  de 
lay  now.' 

All  understood  him,  and  all,  with  alacrity, 
complied.  In  a  remarkably  short  tun"  the 
whole  party  were  on  foot,  and  slowly  un-end- 
ing  the  (Mountain  ;  a  work  of  even  more  labor 
than  any,  save  Carson  himself,  had  at  first 
anticipated. 

As  they  proceeded,  the  atmosphere  began 
to  grow  cooler  and  cooler  ;  but  when  about 
half  of  the  immentiu  ascent  had  been  gained, 
and  the  character  of  the  ground  commenced 
to  change,  from  a  soft  grassy  loam  to  a  stony 
soil,  and  from  that  gradually  breaking  into 
yawning  clefts  airl  chasms,  and  jagged  frag* 
monts  of  rocks,  which  soumed  by  some  con 
vulsion  of  nature  to  have  been  hewn  from 
their  places  and  piled  promiscuously  toother, 
then  it  was  that  Carson,  the  foremost  cl'inber, 
paused,  finally  ;  and  while  he  pointed  to  the 
mountain  peak  more  than  five  hundred  fret 
above  their  heads,  he  said,  in  the  hearing  of 
every  man, and  in  the  remarkably  welUchoson 
language  ho  could,  when  it  pleased  him,  as 
sume, — 


KIT  CARSON. 


Ill 


'  VVe  stand  upon  the  Sirrra  Ntuva,  the 
highest  mountain,  save  one,  in  California,  and 
the  richest  in  mineral  wealth  on  the  fuce  of 
the  globe.  It  is  a  slumbering  volcano,  and 
these  pits  arid  chasms  you  see  on  every  h;md 
are  the  signs  of  long-past  convulsions,  that 
^.ive  opened  the  seams  of  the  mountain  and 
sent  u  hundred  subterraneans  to  the  lowlands. 
It  is  these  same  mountain-torrents  which  bear 
along  with  them  to  the  valley  of  the  Sacra 
mento,  the  loose  ore  and  golden  dust,  that 
serve  to  show  the  .boundless  richness  of  the 
scource  from  whence  they  come.  We  lit 
erally  stand  upon  &  mountain  of  gold  !  there 
is  an  inexhaustible  mine  in  its  heart;  and  if 
you  would  satisfy  yourselves,  see  with  your 
own  eyes  it  wonders,  scatter  yourselves  over 
the  mountain,  rny  men,  and,  Kit  Carson  s 
word  for  it,  you  will  scarcely  find  u  hollow  or 
cranny  in  the  rocks  in  which  gold  does  not 
lie — g°ld,  nut  it)  small  scales  and  paltry  wash 
ings,  but  in  solid  masses!  T  have  csplond 
this  mount ein  from  top  to  bottom,  tviry  rod 
of  it,  and  1  know  what  I  say  to  be  true.' 

The  men  needed  no  second  uvging;  they 
knew  they  could  rely  upon  hi*  words,  and 
bounding  w.th  Meet  footsteps  farther  and  far 
ther  tip  the  Btiipenduoua  ascent,  they  scatter 
ed  in  every  direction  among  the  cleft  and 
sheltered  rocks,  in  eager  exploration  of  their 
.hidden  recesses. 

'  Come  P  whispered  Carson  ;  *  hither,  come, 
stranger  !  I  will  show  you  tha1  the,  boundless 
wealth  of  California  has  not  been 'lie  loast  ex 
aggerated  I' 

And  as  tho  speaker  led  the  way,  followed 
closely  by  RngeiiQ  nnd  Kdward,  bounding  up 
the  acclivity  he  sprang  at  once  among  the  ex 
plorers  of  the  rocks. 

1  Seo  !  »re  !'  he  cried,  '  what  might  bo  had 
in  the  mountains;  while  fools  dig  in  the 
valleys  and  wash  in  tho  streams  !>olow  !' 

Scarcely  could  Lincoln  credit  bin  eyes  at 
what  there  mot  their  guze ;  as  ho  passed 
along  before  the  operators.  With  only  the 
help  of  their  sharp  hunting-knives,  the  men 
were  at  work,  excavating  from  every  cleft 
and  cavity  the  most  precious  of  ull  metals  in 
layers  of  from  two  or  three  to  a  dozen  ounces, 
on  an  avenge — literally  scraping  cukes  of 
gold  from  tho  crevices  of  the  rocks,  frequent* 
ly  a  pound  or  moro  in  weight ;  where,  in  each 
ho.low  plrtco,  the  world-worshipped  ore  seem 
ed,  in  a  Huid  state,  to  have  been  deposited  ; 
as  if  left  there  by  Nature's  hand  to  harden, 


and  in  Nature  s  own  mould  become  once  more 
u  solid. 

It  was  no  longer  the  glittering  dust  of  the 
gold-washers,  no  longer  the  minute  pnrticlea 
separated  from  pebbles  nnd  sand  ;  it  WHS  now 
the  pure  gold,  in  solid  lumps!  and  carried 
away  by  the  excitement  of  the  bewildering 
spectacle,  Lincoln  could  restrain  himwll  no 
longer;  but  echoing  ihe  cries  of  wild  delight 
which  the  mountain  clitfs  nnd  caverns  pro 
longed,  in  thunder  like  reverberations,  khtfe 
in  hand,  he  leaped  into  the  very  midst  ol  the 
gold -gatherers,  and  bent  him  to  his  tusk  !  In 
a  delight  he  plied  his  keen  blade,  rapidly  dis* 
lodging  lump  alter  lump  of  the  dearly  prized 
mineral,  and  stripping  caviiy  after  c'tvny  <»f 
their  precious  depoaile,  until,  ere  he  was  wtll 
aware,  he  had  already  accumulated  several 
pounds  of  the  dazzling  metal  tor  which,  with 
such  trembling  eagerness,  he  sought, 

In  such  soul  absorbing  occupation,  it  term 
ed  to  him  that  he  could  never  lire  or  grow 
wenry  ;  so  engrossed,  indeed,  was  he,  that, 
forgetful  of  ull  else,  he  did  not  lake  Police 
that  another  digger  was  working  close  to  htm, 
and  it  was  sometime  ere  he  looked  up  and 
found  the  hoy  Edward  employed  almost  at 
arm's  length  from  him. 

Lincoln  started  and  colored  slightly  ;  per 
haps  from  confusion  at  having  so  completely 
lost  himself  in  his  tempting  occupation;  per* 
hups  from  some  other  fouling  mingled  with 
it. 

Tho  youth,  now  Bering  that  he  was  observ 
ed,  instantly  naid, — 

'  Ltn  mo  work  with  you,  sir — let  me  work 
for  you%  Here  !  let  me  add  my  store  to  yours 
— nay,  do  not  deny  me  1  what  need  have  1  of 
gold:  1  car.  gather  it  Rt  any  lime;  t:<it  you 
have  corne  all  the  way  from  the  far  Aih.ntic 
in  search  of*  it.  O  then,  let  me  give  i<  to  you!' 
urged  the  boy,  earnestly  ;  *  indeed,  I  need  it 
not  P 

Uoforo  Kiigcno  Lincoln  conld  remoiutrnie 
againit  such  generosity,  Kit  Carson  wus  by 
their  sice,  saying,—  ( 

'  Leave  this  s,>ot,  stranger,  nnd  you,  too, 
Edward,  ond  come  with  me  both.  Never 
fear,  mm,  nor  look  so  wistfully  around  you, 
you  shall  lose  nothing ;  you  shall  gnin  by  the 
exchange.  Hut  bring  your  gold  unh  >uu— 
you  haven't  been  idle,  I  see.  Aud  DOW,  to 
the  cave— to  the  cave  I1 

Hard  as  it  wan  to  tear  himself  away  from 
(he  bewildering  allurements  of  that  scene, 
Lincoln's  reliance  upon  bis  hu..t«-frieud 


119 


KIT  CARSON. 


Wat  too  implicit  to  admit  of  a  question  ;  and 
securing  the  golden  evidences  of  his  success 
about  his  person,  he  hesitated  not  to  follow 
the  bol<i  frontiersman,  who  recommenced 
ascending  the  mountain  to  a  still  greater 
height;  though  it  might  have  been  remarked, 
Unit  during  nearly  the  whole  of  the  time  it 
occupied,  the  eyes  of  Eugene  seemed  to  fix 
themsHvi-N,  tis  if  by  some  irresistible  fascina 
tion,  upon  llie  bountiful  features  of  the  boy 
who  hurried  on,  Mith  n  graceful  step,  by  his 
side,  whiln  the  latter  moro  than  orica  lifted 
hisoyes,  ns  if  conscious  of  the  scrutiny  of 
which  ho  win  (ho  object. 

A  hundred  foet  higher  tip  the  acclivity, 
they  cumu  to  the  mouth  of  nchutmi  that  si-em- 
ed  to  liuve  been  hollowed,  by  some  natural 
convulsion,  from  the  mountain1*  side. 

Carson  bade  Lincoln  to  enter,  adding  as  he 
did  so,  — 

'  Now,  indeed,  I  will  show  you  more  than 
yonr  wildest  dreams  have  durod  to  conceive 
of  the  wonders  of  California!  Now  I  will 
ihow  you  thai,  too,  in  comparison  with  which 
all  you  have  yet  seen  sinks  into  insignificance. 
Get  in  !  get  in!  this  is  the  gold  cuve,  Jtnm 


Once  within  the  cavern,  a  vision  of  daz- 
cling  Hplendor  burnt  on  the  astonished  young 
man  that  nearly  took  away  his  breath,  in  the 
first  violence  of  bewildnring  surprise,,  At  his 
feot,  honped  up  ngii'mut  thu  rocky  walls,  in 
piles  upon  the  Mtony  floor,  lay  the  magic 
metal,  in  quantities  immonse,  in  value  ines 
timable 

Lincoln  saw,  half-incredulously,  nnd  then 
turned  upon  his  conductor  a  look  of  wonder 
ing  itiMiiry. 

Carson  marked  it,  and  at  once  rejoined,— 

1  You  hardly  scern  to  know,  stranger,  if 
you  are  in  a  dronm  or  not  !  If  you  dare  not 
believe  your  own  even,  touch  tl.e  metal  and 
be  convinced.  Doubt  it  who  will,  here  at 
'your  fuel  is  £013  to  the  value  of  more  tlwn  o 
million  of  dollars  in  sold  coin  told  I  But 
think  not  this  is  thn  deposit  of  Nature  ;  no,  it 
is  thn  fruit  of  my  first  discovery  of  the  moun- 
tain's  Kecri't  wraith,  lens  than  three  months 
since  ;  bore,  with  only  Edward  there  to  keep 
me  company,  t  collected  the  whole  of  this 
tttst  treasure  together,  and  stored  it  in  this 
cave,  till  I  could  return  for  it.  Only  we  two 
know  the  secret—  no  other  living  being,  save 
yourself,  stranger,  knows  of  this  cuve,  or  the 
hidden  riches  it  contains.  See,  stranger,  seei 
lucky  ws  the  day  in  which  you  made  a  friend 


of  Kit  Carson,  the  Prince  of  the  Gold  Hunters 
— for  you  need  dig  no  more — in  this  treasure 
[  swear  you  shall  share !' 

With  his  Herculean  hand,  as  he  spoke,  he 
iplifted  a  solid  lump  of  pure  gold  Cull  ten 
pounds  in  weight,  and  while  he  pointed  to 
others  nearly  ns  latge,  upon  the  cave's  rocky 
door,  be  poised  it  for  a  moment  in  that  gigan 
tic  palm,  then  placed  it  in  the  convulsive 
Urasp  of  Kugeue  Lincoln,  who,  with  spark 
ling  eyes,' nnd  heaving  breast,  and  delirious 
joy  on  every  manly  feature,  stood  rooted  to 
the  ground,  spasmodically  clutching  thn  pro* 
cious  pri/i',  while  almost  the,  language  of  de 
lirium's  wild  incoherence  full  from  his  lips: 

•  At  labt— at  last— 1  urn  rich.O  God,  rich  I 
My  sister,  O  my  sister! — no  more  shall  you 
want;   no  moro  shall  you  feel  thn  bitter  sting 
of  poverty  !— no  more  shall  you   sigh  in  your 
bitter  grief  over   a   brother  made  a  drudging 
slave  to  the  counter  and  the  desk  I  no    more 
shall  you  pine  at  the  dark  lot  of  your  Kugene 
— and  ah  !    my  un;',t'l  mother,  O  would    that 
you  were  once  more  on  earth,   to  enjoy    tho 
wealth  exhftUMtlesM  God  bus  given  to  your  run, 
you,  who  MilU-reil  nnd   endured  HO  much  for 
us!     Oh!  I  could   make  you  happy  now, — 
supremely  blest!  mother!   sister! — gold,  O 
God,  gold  !' 

And  overwhelmed  by  emotion's  w  Id  tor 
rent,  tho  hi  avy  metal  full  from  his  hand,  and 
ho  Htnggurud,  reded,  and  sunk  BCIINU'.CMS  at 
Carson'*  feet ! 

Oh,  how  (JitlVront  from  the  miser's  sordid 
joy  was  this — all  unselfishness,  all  filial  and 
fraternal  love,  all  high  and  holy  feeling. 

Quick  as  human  limbs  can  move  at  midden 
emergency's  call,  thu  boy  Edward  uprang  to 
ihu  Hidu  ofthu  fallen  man,  kitolt  by  his  pros 
trate  form  and  bent  over  him,  and  as  wildly 
sobbed,—  v 

*  O  liuuven  !  he  is  dying !  speak,  O  speak 
to  mo!  toil  mo  that  you  livo!     You  mu«»  not, 
you  shall  not  die  !     My  God  !  them  is  no  light 
in  his  e\  n,  no  hreulh  on  his  lip,     fin  is  dying 
— dying!     O  God,  nnd  1  lowd  him  sot* 

And  pressing  thai  1 1 MI-MS  lip  with  u  frantic 
kis»,  the  strange  boy  sank,  in  u  lifeless  swoon 
by  his  sido. 

The  amazement  of  the  startled  hunter  could 
only  be  ei)uullnd,by  his  consternation  at  this 
double  catastrophe.  But  accident  ptfMJMtttd 
him  thq  indulgence  of  either  of  these  feelings, 
n sudden  occurrence  distracted  his  attention, 
at  on<*e. 

Sound  ajcends ;  and  then  tho  voices  of  un- 


KIT  CARSON. 


113 


known  interlocutors  became  more  distinct, 
took  form  and  shaped  thcin.scl/ca  into  words, 
clearly  nudible  to  Carson,—. 

'  This}  is  the  pluce — or  somewhere  very 
near  it.' 

The  speaker's  tones,  ns  these  words  were 
•aid,  were  firm  and  strong,  with  the  depth  und 
volume  of  manhood  in  its  piime;  but  the 
voice  that  immediately  responded,  won  trem 
ulous  nnd  <|tiavering,  with  the  mumbling  ac- 
cents  of  old  uge,— 

'Hut  are  you  sore?  are  you  very  sure, 
Curl  ?' 

'  Sure!'  retorted  the  first  speaker,  in  evi 
dent  impatience.  '  Sun  Stcfuno!  don't  I  tell 
thee  it  was  here  1  saw  them  lust  from  tho  vnl- 
Icy.  It  was  him,  I'll  Make-  my  soul  upon  it ; 
'tis  not  many  men  could  be  mistaken  tor  Kit 
Carson  !' 

'  But  his  men,  where  are  all  hia  men  ?'  de 
manded  tho  other. 

4  Depend  upon  it,  he  left  them  lower  down 
tho  mountain,  to  find  richer  pickings  for  him- 
•elf  here.  If  any  man  in  California  knows 
where  gold  is  to  he  found  in  greatest  plenty, 
that  man  is  Kit  Carson.' 

4  We've  dogged  them  to  some  purpose 
then,  he,  he  I"  chuckled  exultingly  the  other. 
4  We  are  to  share  alike,  Curl — that  was  the 
bargain.' 

*  So,'  thought  Carson,  as  he  overheard  the 
last  words,  'suspicion  has  been  raised  among 
two,  at  least,  of  the  gold-diggers  on  the  river, 
and  1  am  tracked  hither,  i  will  keep  close 
and  watch  them  !' 

The  cavern  was  deep  and  dark,  and  stoop 
ing  down,  he  raised  the  motionless  bodies  o 
his  still  unconscious  companion",  and  bore 
them, one  by  one,  after  him  to  the  buck  oftho 
cave  ;  which  was  wrapped  in  such  complete 
•-bscurity  as  effectually  to  conceal  the  figures 
of  all  three,  while  it  loft  the  entrnnco  of  tho 
grotto,  and  any  intermediate  or  external  ob 
ject,  in  the  light,  and  in  full  view  of  tho  so 
cretcd  Carson,  who  could  see  when  himscl 
invisible. 

Scarcely,  However,  was  this  manoeuvre  cf 
fected,  when  the  mouth  ot  the  cave  wusdark 
cncd  by  two  human  figures,  the  one,  as  the 
hunter  «aw,  a  decrcpid  old  man.  the  other  tal 
and  powerful,  both  known  to  the  reader  n 
Carl,  the  Califomian,  and  John  Vernon,  th 
miser. 

Each  took  a  step  within  the  cavern,  then  i 
the  act  recoiled  as  far,  actually  dazzled  by  th 
sight  of  tho  incalculable  treasure  that  strewed 


s  gold-piled  floor,  whence  was  reflected  back 
lie  sunlight,  in  g'ittoring,  flashing  brightness, 
o  tho  bewildered  eyes  of  those  who  gazed  oo 
tie  tempting  muss. 

In  an  instant,  the  sordid-souled  miser  win 
rovell'mg  amid  the  golden  heaps,  and  shout* 
ig,— 

1  Da,  ha!  I  was  right — I  was  right!— 
icre — hero,  is  Kit  Carson's  hoard —  it  if 
mine,  now,  lie,  ho!'  , 

While  his  companion,  Carl,  stooping  to 
raise  the  very  muss  of  gold  which  tugene 
Lincoln  had  a  few  moments  previous  held, 
nood  with  it  tightly  clutched,  and  ga/.ing  on, 
t  in  astonishment,  repeating,  unconscious  that 

10  was  overheard  by  any,  suve   hia  compa. 
nion,  the  miser, — 

The  largest  lump  I  have  yet  seen;  it  is 
woith  thousands  of  dollars!  Ho,  ho!  the 
rightful  owner  shall  return  to  find  his  treasure 
ms  taken  wings.1 

'  Not  so  fust,  Sir  Spaniard!  not  so  fust  I 
cried  a  clear,  loud  voice  from  the  depths 
and  darkness  of  the  cave  ;  '  Kit  Carson  is  here 
o  protect  his  own.' 

At  the  sudden  appearance  of  the  hunter,  at 
the  sound  of  his  startling  voice,  Carl  dropped 
the  enormous  piece  of  metul  that  he  had  held, 
and  recoiled,  as  if  stupefied. 

Not  so  the  miser.  John  Vernon  was  in  an 
instant  on  his  feet,  alarmed  avarice  overcom 
ing,  as  usual,  every  emotion  of  surprise,  awe, 
or  personal  apprehension  ;  and  as  he  stagger 
ed  up,  he  caught  at  the  heavy  mass  of  ore  as 
it  fell  from  his  comrade's  grasp,  and  poising 

11  a  moment  above  his  own  head,  then,  with 
the  whole  force  of  his  decrepid   body  thrown 
into  the  effort,  the  miser  hurled  the  ponderous 
weight  ot  solid  gold  full  at  the  forehead  of  the 
hunter,  crying, — 

'  Yo'j  shall  nie— you  shall  die!  I  will  not 
give  up  tho^'uW/1 

Tho  metallic  missile  sped  through  tho  air, 
like  n  cannon-ball  in  ils  flight,  and  had  it 
struck  its  living  target  it  would  have  brained 
him  on  the  spot. 

But  Kit  Cnruon's  cyo  was  like  the  eagle's, 
and  as  it  left  tho  miser's  hand,  the  hunter 
dodged. 

It  hurtled  past  his  head,  struck  against  the 
cave's  rocky  back,  then,  rebounding,  fell  on 
the  chest  of  Eugene  Lincoln,  who  still  lay  in 
his  previous  state  of  stupor — the  blood  spurt* 
ing  from  his  breast! 

The  sight,  tho  effect,  were  instantaneous 
upon  Carson.  In  an  initant  more  he  had 


KIT 


tuVen  the  murderou*  minor  by  Ahe  throat,  arid 
shook  him,  us  if  ho  would  have  driven  the 
very  breath  front  hi*  body. 

4  C  irl !  C  irl !'  gasped  the  terrified  miser, 
shrieking  for  aid;  and  theCulifornian,  druw 
ing  R  pijignard  from  his  belt,  sprung  on  the 
hunter! 

Hiii  C.\r*  -,.i  was  a  match  for  both,  One 
blow  Irom  hm  heavy  hind  knocked  the  stil* 
etio  from  its  owner' «  gra*p;  then,  with  ono 
gigantic  unit  thrown  round  thu  waist  of  Curl, 
HID  oiinT  cluu'.hin',',  likewise,  the  miner'* 
withered  form,  lie  cunulit  them  up,  ns  eu«ily 
no  hn  would  have  donu  HM  many  inl'mis,  held 
them  for  ii  inonuMit  tit  arm*'  length,  to  nhow 
th<'m  their  niter  impotence;  und  then,  ugain 
t»nd  agiin,  h«  dashed  tin-in  one  against  thu 
dfoft  bringing  tMr  tauli  und  bodies  each 
tim*,  with  fearful  violence,  in  contact— mid 
in  thruu  rupid  trMtmenU  cast  them,  NIMINO* 
lom  and  Ntnnih'd,  together,  to  the  ground, 
and  nil  with  one  firm  exertion  of  his  uiuu/.ing 
strength! 

Tins  done,  ho  Itirned  him  to  tho  bleeding 
Lincoln,  to  learn  the  extent  ofhiM  injury,  do 
relieved  hi*  breast  fr«>m  tho  heavy  pressure  of 
the  golden  weight,  but  \\*  force  hud  been 
tpent  upon  tin;  stony  rocks,  and  though  it  had 
cut  deep  in'o  thea  gofo-tftttilied  Hesh,  ho  hoped 
it  had  broken  no  boin-s.  N  tverthcle»a  he 
knew  that  tlie  wound  demanded  cure,  und 
thu  hunter  miilterud,  thoughtfully  : 

'lie  must  have  attention  ;  ho  must  have 
attention!  L'ickily  I  have  n  nurycon  among 
n,y  „„;„—. |  will  go  for  him,  instantly,1. 

Hut  before  h«  acted  upon  this  happy  Niig. 
gpHtion,  he  mopped  to  bind  tho  insensible 
C  trt  and  hin  inner  coufoilerato,  u«  a  prudent 
preciution  against  their  escape,  should  they 
revive  ere  his  return ;  then  leaving  his  as 
sailants  securely  tied,  with  a  last  anxious  look 
at  the  Uleedinit  Lincoln  and  tho  still  'inani 
mate  form  of  Kdwc.id  ut  <ho  latter't*  side,  he 
q'hltud  the  c.ivo  und  hastily  deacunded  the 
monntiiin-side. 

C.tMon  found  the  night  Mttlng  in  nrnnnd 
hitn  ;  und  H.IVV  ih  it,  in  compliance  with  Ins 
own  diiections,  his  men  'mil  closed  their  first 
diiy's  labors,  and  pitched  their  camp,  where 
they  had  left  their  horses,  at  tho  mountain^ 
bus  -. 

llu  was  soon  amonff  them,  calling  loudly 
for  the  surgeon  •,  luit  HC.ircely  had  he  made 
h'n  ai»pe  trance,  when  from  one  of  tho  tents  R 
couple  of  his  men  hurrtud  forth  to  meet  him, 
Baying,— 


4  Oh,  we  have  been  hunting  for  you,  cnp  • 
loin,  thin  half  hour !  A  Indy  and  gentleman 
are  here  in  tho  camp,  and  winh  to  sen  you— - 
the  men  are  out  now,  in  ne.irch  of  you.* 

*A  ludy  uvnd  gentleman!'  repeated  the 
chief,  in  evident  surprise  ;  '  come  to  ace  Kit 
Carson  ?  impossible !' 

But  before  the  e.xclamntion  was  well  out  of 
his  mouth,   tho  hungingn   of  the   tent  were 
again  hoisted,  to  give  cgresn  to  tho  tull  .Igure 
of  it  young  mini,  with  a  graceful  female  form 
Icimiiig  on  )I!N  arm  ;  and  UN  their  cycx  fimten*    , 
I'd  upon  him,  ho  heard  tlu-  guiilleimm  0uy,a«      . 
both  adviun'i'd,— 

1  Oli,  that  is  ho,  I  nm  sure  t  Kit  Carnon  i* 
not  u  man  to  be  mistaken,  though  never  »een 
before,  Hut  the  porlruil !— 1  know  him  by 
that— it  Is  the  same!' 

And  the  sneaker  held  out  n  *mall  fumed 
painting  to  tne  hunter,  \\ilhnhuiid  that  trem 
bled  with  oagcrnCNM, 

In  the  hoight  of  surprise,  ho  to  whom  it  win 
tendered  mechiinioally  received  it  j  and  (me 
glance  at  the  p'elure  oiiused  him  to  nlurl  with 
UHtonishincnt  and  exclaim,— 

1  du!  Heaven  and  earth,  thin  is  my  por 
trait!  Spcnkl  wli'iro  did  you  gel  this?  and 
who  are  you  ?* 

'  Rend  ihih  packet !  rend  this  packet ;  it  will 
explain  all,1  was  the  excited  reply  ;  then  with 
a  strange  nhow  of  joy,  tho  gentleman  turned 
to  the  lady  on  bin  arm,  in  u  glad  tone  ejacu 
lating,— 

'  Found  !  found  ivt  last !  After  all  my  trials, 
nil  my  dangers,  I  have  met  Kit  ('arson — I 
have  met  him  ;  and  my  father's  hiht  injunc 
tion  i*  fulfilled  !' 

The  bewildered  hunter  mechnnicnlly  had 
torn  open  the  packet,  hut  the  first  look  that  he 
gave  at  thu  signature  he  found  within  caused 
a  fresh  start  and  n  cry— 

4  Vernon  !  Vernon  !  Surely,  surely  I  should 
know  that  name  I  Hal  by  Heaven, these  in 
itials  !— tho  name,  the  vr)  same— it  is,  must 
bo  the  verv  man  to  whom  I  once  solemnly 
vowed——' 

The  sentence  was  nut  completed ;  for  the 
contents  hud  suddenly  enchained  his  whole 
inh-rrst.  Twice  tho  timo  necessary  for  its 
pern-mi  passed  em  he  looked  11,1,  ut  length — 
he  liad  evidently  hi  "ii  reflecting  deeply,  ns 
well  us  reading, 

'  And  H»,  'tin  as  I  mifjproted  ;  this  ••  from 
my  oil  frie  <i,  the  naholi  Vprnou,  relating  to 
the  [cist.  Alas  I  Kate  never  dt-stined  rtiat  I 
ahould  fulfill  the  conditional  vow  1  made  him. 


K/T  CARSON. 


wns  H  fe-,ale,  not 


His  poor  hoy's  fate  is  still  as  great  »  mystery 
to  Kit  Carson  as  to  himself.  And  tet,  .none 
point,  it  s  -ems  he  did  deceive  me  !  Heavens  ! 
what  is  this  he  says?— thechild  a  firl,rirr<*. 
eff  r»  boy  s  chthc*— j»s  sex  disguised,  and  for 
how  strange  a  reason!  It 
a  in  ile  child,  then 
for!' 

Thoughtfully,  agitatedly  he  spoke,  then 
turned  to  his  stranger  visitor 

'  And  you,  the  bearer  of  this  packet,  the 
messenger—  who  are  yo,i?' 

Mam  Henry  Vernon,  the  writer's  son,'  was 
the  (|...ck  reply.  •  Fate  itself  ,-eemed  to  con- 
spire  against  mo  in  my  search  for  you,  or  I 
should  hay,,  found  out  days  before.  Hut  for 
my  m.cle's  hellish  plot ' 

1  Your  uncle  ?'  iterated  Carson,  inquirmg'y. 

1  ll.i  I  I  foryot ;  you  know  no'hing  of  him  ; 
nor  him-  I  time  for  explanation.  Suffice  it 
that  I  have  an  uncle,  here  in  California;  one 

wll°'  l)r" '««'  '»y  lii"  ruling  passion,  uvuricu, 

has  oiien  plotted  my  ruin.' 

1  Hut  you  escaped.' 

« |  did— 'twas  that  detuned  me,'  Henry  re- 
plifn,  while  the  lady  earnestly  interposed, 
•aying,._ 

'  O  sir,  it  was  a  deadly  peril  he  escaped  ! 
His  feiirlul  uncle  plotted  with  a  Spanish  ruf 
fi.n— a  native,  I  believe— to  drug  his  wine: 
not  will,  poison,  but  with  some>u'»ile  narcotic, 
tint  lie  might  he  left  behind  by  the  caravan, 
in  which  all  three  wen- j.um,HJ  ing  to  the  gold 
mines,  to  he  devoured  by  wild  beasts,  ere  he 
recovered  n<jain  his  faculties.' 

'  A  fiend's  contrivance  truly,  lady  !' 
1  It  was  ;  but  kind  Ueuve/i  >av.  d  him  ;  it 
moted  the  ruffim  Spaniard's  hi  art  lo 'com- 
pas*i..n  ;  and  though  he  t.iok  his  i  list  ig.i  tor's 
miiii.-v.  and  assured  him  the  fearful  business 
was  dune,  in  every  particular,  \et  H  seems  he 
was  n<>  l  totally  d«  praved,  and  dH  r  mined  lo 
save  ihe  victim's  life;  and  no,  instead  ofleav- 
ing  him  on  the  open  plain,  when-  t  iu  wolves 
wou;d  li;iv««  been  fensMng  on  lusc.ircase,  lonu 
ere  lhe  f.u-il  potion  could  have  been  slept  off, 
the  man  conveyed  him  xecr»-tly  to  lhe  security 
of  a  liii!«  cave,  which  he  birricaded  at  the 
entrance,  w»  M  to  prevent  wild  beasts  from 
euteiinir.  out  whic-h  ihe  viclim,  on  r» covering 
from  the  s  upor  oflhe  nare.»ti,-,  eould  himself 
east  yds  >Uce.  TliH.-k  God  !  he  did  escape  ; 
and  though  the  caravan  WHS  not  lo  be  over 
taken,  he  readily  f,,«ind  his  wny  back  to  San 
Franc  1 10,  where  ' 


The  voice  ot  tlie   lady    fallen  d,  and  she' 

colored  slightly. 

'  Wh,re.  dear  Ellen,  I  returned  onre  morn 
to  meet  the  dearest  thing  on  nmh  ,,,  ,,,^  I- 
...lerposed  Henry,  with  a  look  ol  matrhless 
affection.  '  Hi, i  to  that  dreadful  ,«„„»,.,  |  ,,we 
it,  that  you  in.-isted  on  accmnn.rriv.nif  me 

now^dear    girl.      Curses   upon )H   „„,  { 

ur>e  Unit  unhappy   mnu — he    is    my 
father  8  brother,  and  he  is  an  old  man    Hi.d   a 


. 

At  lhe  I.,«t  words,  Carson  started  again, 
tlijhily  nrui  and  said,— 

•lla?  it  maybe  so;  T^,  uncle,  ,his  nn- 
natural  rela.um,  was  he  an  old  man  a  ue- 
crepid  cripple  ?' 


And  this  tool  of  his?'  proceeded  Canon 
' 


,u9 
sku-ned,  powerltil  li-llow  7' 
'Yes;    but  —  but 

'Cumewnhmejhenllthinklknowthern 
both;  (olio*  me,  ifyou  would  ne-  xuur  in- 
t^ndrd  murderers.  They  have  f.dV,,  ,„,„ 
Kit  Carson's  toils  !  Mr.  V.-rnon,  come  !  nnd 
you^,  lady,  though  K.t  Carson  knows  you 

1  Her  name  is  Ellen  Lincoln,  sir,  or  »«  /• 
replu-fi  Henry,  ami  Mopped. 

'Lincoln!  H,  !  can  i,  be  a  coincidence  ? 
Slraiixe.-irtriiDgttl  and  yet,  Euj-em,  |,,,H  .old 
me  all  his  history—  his  separation  from  _ 
yes!  by  the  Heaven  at,ove  me,  1  do  believe 
it  is  '  and  -  ' 

'.Great  Heaven!  what  mean  you?'  ex 
claimed  Ellen,  darting  to  his  .-ide. 

•  Follow  me  !  elimb  the  monnmin  with  Kit 
C.rson,  and  >ou  shall  know.'  And  the  burn,  r 
IHI..HC.IO  ly.o  snatch  a  Itghted  torch  Iron,  o,  e 
ol  fienrn;  the.i  h.irried  on. 

AuiMtud  b>  a  Hirauue  cor.Hirt  of  emolionH 
they  ,.»  hurriedly  ol,e>ed,  not  knowing  »|,,  | 
cot.siruciion  to  put  upi.n  the  sirai.«e  C.MI.IUCI 
o'  their  m)sienous  e.ouducior.  Breatlilewlv 
at  length,  they  arrived  at  the  niuuih  ol  U.e' 
c»ve. 

The  hunter  WHB  the  first  |o  enler,  fol|«,v»rd 
close  by  Henry  M,,,J  Kllen.  Th.-  former  I,  ,lu 
ed  abruptly,  while'  Henrj  and  Klleo  e,  II.N  d 
•  he  cry  of  horror  that  broke  from  the  burner's 
lips. 

What  a  sight  was  disclosed*  by  tl,0  |0rch- 
light 

I'hern,  at  the  hack  of  (he  cavern,  loosed 
from  bis  bonds  unlettered  and  free,  bending 


116 


KIT  CARSON. 


down  over  the  inanimate  form  of  Eugene 
Lincoln,  John  V«rnon  stood,  with  the  milotto 
of  Carl  buroil  above  the  brenst  of  tho  helplom 
young  m«n  !  while  tho  miner's  chuckling 
voice  WUH  hoard  in  ominous  exuttalion,  ming- 
led  with  a  demon  Inugh,— 
1  Ha  I  ha !  f/u'i  inun  once  removed,  the 


treasure  is  left  unguarded  !— this  man  slain, 
and  more  \liun  the  richus  of  Crwaun  belong 
to  Joint  Vernon  !  Ho,  ho !  I'll  strike  horn* 
and  miro  I1 

The  stiletto  gleamed  in  the  torch-light— 
fluHhed-— defended— •  and  rose,  crimsoned 
with  blood! 


KIT  CARSON 


117 


Thf  Attn,:ptrd  Murder  in  the  Cave—  The 
/it-union  nf  Sister  nnd  IJrothrr  —  The 
Misrr  Dincorrrs  his  Children  —  Astound 
ing  DisrlowreSt 

Fate  —  ever  a  mystery  — 

Weaveth  its  coik  ; 
Amid  all  life's  history, 

Who  'scapes  its  toils  ? 
Vice  —  its  own  penalty  — 

Destiny  foils  ; 
And  sin  melancholy; 

(-rime  sclf-rrroils  ! 

AN  UNPUBLISHED  POEM. 


Y  «ne  bold  bound,  Kit 
k  Carson,  tho  avenger, 
y  gained  the  spot.  Yen- 
U'iceHhono  in  his  eye, 
»erved  hi«  arm;  u«  full 
,  three  yards  back  from 
his  bleeding  victim,  on 
tho  rock  floor,  tho  now 
crouching  miser  was  dragged  by  that  resist* 
less  arm. 

'Miscreant!  hoary  headed  miscreant,  lie 
thero  1  This  is  tho  second  time,  in  ono  short 
day,  you  have  sought  to  b<!  u  murderer,  blood* 
thirsty  gray-beard  1 

A  powerful  foot  was  ph.ced  upon  tho  chest 
of  the  nvsor,  that  hold  tiie  assassin  down, 
while  the  bullied  old  nan  would  fain  have 
cowered  tremblingly  away  from  the  terrible 
eye  that  glared  down  at  him  ;  and  as  his  own 
averted  glance  quivered,  fc.ll  of  fear,  around, 
it  lighted  on  the  two,  well-known-figures,  that 
had  paused,  spell-bound  :>y  horror,  tt  the 
cavera'f  mouth. 


*  Ha!  my  nephew  !  Curses,  curses!  has 
tl'e  dead  given  up  its  own  ?' 

1  My  uncle  I  O  God  !'  was  Henry's  faint 
response.  '  for  the  third  time  he  is  an  as 
sassin  !' 

Hut  the  terrified  old  man  seemed  to  think  it 
was  a  supernatural  visitation,  and  with  a  gro^n 
covered  his  eyes,  as  though  to  shut  out  the 
fearful  sight. 

A  cry,  a  shriek  from  Ellen,  at  that  same 
moment,  re-awoke  the  echoes  of  the  cave,  at, 
swiftly  past  Kit  Carson  Harry's  companion 
bounded, — 

'  Mercy  !  mercy  !  my  God  I  It  is  Eugene 
— it  is  Kugrnc!  O,  my  brother  !  Murdered  ! 
Heavenly  Father!  murdered!  and  I  meet 
thee  again,  but  to  see  thee  die  !  The  blood  ! 
— tho  blood  I  See  the  fearful  gore  upon  his 
brenst !' 

'The  wretch  has  slain  him,* sighed  Carson, 
sadly. 

Henry,  who  had  fo'lowcd  Ellen's  own  im 
pulsive  movement,  and  was  bending  in  as 
great  an  agonj  of  feeling  over  Eugono,  sud 
denly  exclaimed, — 

4  No,  no  ;  ho  is  not  dead  !  The  dapper 
seems  to  have  inflicted  only  a  slight  scratch  ; 
it  cannot  have  caused  this  cfFi'sion  of  blood, 
nor  can  it  be  a  serious  injury,  much  less  a 
futal  one.' 

Carson  at  once  remembered  the  contusion 
made  by  the  falling  mass  of  gold  that  had  been 
aimed  at  his  own  Ufa  ;  but  ho  could  not  con 
ceive  how  Lincoln  could  have  escaped  sorious 
injury  from  the  assassin's  knife. 

Hut  Henry  had  already  torn  aside  the  vest 
of  Eugene,  and  Carson  perceived  the  knife 
had  lel't,  indeed,  but  a  scratch,  a  mere  trifle  ; 
the  cause  of  which  was  also  immediately  ob 
vious. 

The  weapon  had  been  aimed,  with  murder- 
us  accuracy,  at  the  seat  of  life  but  just  above 


118 


KIT  CARSON. 


the  lu-urt,  hanging  by  ngold  chain,  was  found 
a  jewelled  miniatures  on  tho  metallic  case  of 
which  was  found  a  deep  indentation,  caused 
by  tin1  dttjiiger'j  point,  which  hud  glanced 
harmlessly  aside. 

'  ll  is  our  Manned  meihor's  niiniutnro  that 
has  saved  his  life,'  sobbed  the  sister  ;  '  he  lias 
i1 1  ways  worn  it  next  bin  heart  1  ••  sou  !  see  ! 
hu  is  reviving !' 

It  was  HO.  Tho  gradual  loss  of  blood  hud 
hin I  tho  eli'.'ct  lo  restore  him  to  consciousness 
— though  by  slow  degree*  nt  first. 

Kllen  throw  herself  beside  him,  and  kissed 
his  pale  li|H  a ii, tin  ami  again.  Henry,  deiply 
moved,  stood  hv  ;  whili4  thu  hunter,  sharing 
more  than  he  himself  suspected,  in  his  feel 
ings,  strove  t  >  hide  them  by  reverting  toother 
object*. 

Thu  miser,  will)  his  eyos  still  closed,  lay  a 
(dmddermg  prisoner  beneath  his  fetit ;  u  lew 
feiit  from  li.ni  i  iv  the  form  of  ('irl,  Heourelv 
pinioned,  as  (/arson  had  left  him,  and  tbw 
lulter  at  (..lire  surmised,  iiml  eorree.llv,  that 
tho  uld  man  must  hnvti  mnnugcd  to  extract 
the  dagger  of  his  fellow  prisoner  from  his 
belt,  and  with  it  severing  Ins  own  bunds  pluce 
himself  ut  liberty. 

A  dnt'p  sigh  from  Lincoln,  recalled  Carson 
to  tho  group  ut  thu  cavern's  reur,  us  tin-  for* 
mer  tried  to  struggle  lo  his  leet ;  and  as  he 
inuiie  tho  ani'injK,  thu  bewildered  hrotlier 
found  himself  face  lo  luce  with  thu  linage 
of  his  Kllen  ! 

4  Sistr.r!'  he  wildly  shrieked.  '  Groat  God  ! 
am  1  mud?' 

'  No,  no!  it  is  1  —  Kllcn — your  own  sister !' 
sobbed  the  girl. 

It  was  obvious  that  the  young  man  con* 
sidered  himself  in  a  dream,  or  demented,  lie 
raised  himsolf  upon  ins  knee*  ;  he  took  the 
maiden's  hand  within  hiu  own  ;  ho  pressed  it 
nguin  and  again,  an  if  to  assure  himself  that 
it  was  warm  Ik'sh  find  blood  he  grasped,  anil 
^a/.eil  lon<^  and  wistfully  upon  each  familiar 
lineament,  then,  as  with  a  cry  of  joy  he  cast 
himself  into  bur  open  anna,  hu  faintly  falter* 
eil  forth, — 

'  You  uri:  my  Bister.! — angel  or  mortal,  yon 
are  uluj  !* 

'  1  am,  Ku^MMie,  I  am  ;  and  you  are  my 
own  (l<-:ir  liroiher  !  1  know  not  how  this 
huppunN— I  caru  not,  no  it  is  yourat'll'l  meet 
0  >co  more,' 

Wild,  wild  was  tho  joy  of  tho  brother,  an  ho 
tuiuily  cried, 

•  'iis.  thee  f  'l\$  tl;e.e,  dourest,  sweetest  sis 


!  truest  of  sistors  and   thy  sex,  wo  meet 


Wo  do,  we  do.  Yet  how  strange  i«  now 
that  meeting  !  firan^cr  even  than  our  parting, 
noblest  of  brothers  !' 

4  Ellen,  God  bk-Nsyou  —  my  prido  —  my  pet  !' 
thu  brother  sobbed,  in  his  joy,  aloud. 

4  liless  you,  Kugone  !  and  have  you  not  one 
word  for  Ilinry  ?'  asked  the  glad  girl. 

'  Yes,  for  an  old  (i  lend,  l/mcolu  —  you  have* 
not    forgotten    him  ?'     And  Vcrnon  inigeriy 
ad  va  need. 

Lincoln  started;  tnen,  without  a  word, 
held  out  his  arms,  and  the  friends  met  in 
friendship's  embrace. 

4  And  Kllen,  I  lenry  ?  you  have  been  kind  — 
n  brotlur  to  her  ?' 

4  More  ihun  that,  —  u  kutliaml,  lingerie.  — 
ttho  \A  my  wife  !' 

4  V»>ur  wife  !' 

4  My  wedded  wili',  Kugene  ;  we  werr 
ftnhimnl^ui'.ited  three  iluys  ago,  in  Sun  I'Vcn- 

oidcu.1 

The  brother  turned  a  startled  glance  upon 
his  sister.  In  her  swec*  confusion,  in  her  in* 
gcnnoiiM  truthful  (ace,  he  road  the  conlinna* 
tion  ;  and  with  a  full  heart,  iMiclosed  tlu*  linde 
and  bridegroom  in  oho  common  embrace. 

*  (  >  IIiMiven,  Mu^ciu1.,'  exclaimed  Henry, 
with  unsuppres^cd  agitation  ;  '  lo  think  that 
you  should  have  KO  nearly  perish»il  by  my 
uncle's  hand  !  Tbunk  that  notile  Immer, 
yonder,  that  you  arc  not  John  Vermin's  mur 
dered  victim. 

4  Jtt/nt   \'u>'inni  /' 

^  ildly  repeated  Kugono  that  name.  Hi* 
eyes  lost  the  love-light  of  a  (lection,  and  shone 
with  a  vengeful  glare.  lie  stance*,  turned, 
ami  his  eye  Hashed  round,  us  il  in  scarc.h  of 
the  one  to  whom  the  namu  could  possibly  he- 
i  jnu. 

His  doubts,  his  suspicion  centred  upon  tin 
gray-haired  old  man  held  down  by  Carson'H 
iron  heel,  and  who,  aroused  by  the  fresh  re* 
iteration  of  his  own  name,  tremblingly  unclos 
ed  his  eyes,  and  their  sernciil-gbincc  Ililtcil 
round  the  group,  and  then  fixed,  like  the 
basilisk's  on  him  ! 

Tho  miser  recognised  him  by  tlu»  torch's 
glur<\  and  his  cheek  grew  paler  yiM,  as  thw 
other  bounded  forward,  the  words  of  vim- 
genre  oil  his  li,is,— 

4  Ha  !  accursed  name!  i'u//,  then  nrn 
John  Vcrnon  —  that  sum*'  man  who  once  had 
me  arrested,  thrust  into  prison,  like  u  dog, 
separated  from  my  sister—  devil  ihut  you  me. 


KIT  CARSON. 


You  an;  my  secret  foe — the  mortal  enemy  of 
me  and  mine  ?  Wretch!  the  hour  of  retri 
bution  has  come  !' 

Itut,  ore  the  uplifted  arm  do&ccndrd,  ere 
tlio  l)l(iw  was  struck,  ere  th«  revenge  of  a 
•loaded  spirit  c«)uld  be  taken  ;  a  wild,  strange 
cry,  not  of  terror,  not  of  deppnir,  not  of  des 
peration — but  indescribably  thrilling  and  pe 
culiar,  arrested,  involuntarily,  tbc  purpose 
and  tin;  deed. 

'  ll;i  !'  shrieked  the  miser,  and  started  up 
so  suddenly  as  to  displace  the.  loot  of  Carson 
iiiai  had  so  long  pinned  him  to  tho  earib. — 
'  lla!  \\hui  is  this  T  where  got  you  this?— 
speak  !' 

And  reaching  frantically  forward  en;  tlio 
confounded  Lincoln  cunld  conceive  his  pur- 
pn-e,  lie  snatched  lit  the  jewelled  miniature- 
i hut  had  >a\ed  its  weaier's  lilt;,  and  tore  it 
I  nun  the  young  man's  Hide,  with  a  violence 
that  hroke  the  gulden  chain  by  \\hich  it  was 
suspended  Iroin  his  neck. 

'  Speak  !  cpcak  !'  hu  cried  again  ;  '  answer 
me!  an-urr  me  I  liow  camu  }ou  by  thin 
miniature  .'' 

Never  did  tlie  eyes  of  John  Vernon  ^loat  on 
irennure  witli  more  burning  eagerness,  than 
now  they  Boated  upon  the  object  in  bis  hand, 
while  fearful  convulsions  seemed  to  shako  his 
frame. 

'  In  the.  fiend's  name,'   l»o   shouted,   4will 


you 


answer  mo  or  not  ? 


'Tis  the  likeness  of  my  mother — my  an- 
ucl  mother  in  Heaven,'   involuntarily  replied 

1  Thou  lies.!!'  yelled  the  miser,   in  a   voice 


of  thunder  ;  '  it  is  tho  picture  of  my  wife.  I 
tell  thoe,  boy,  thouliest!  1  say  it  was  my 
wife's  !' 

1  Not  so— not  RO!  'twas  my  dead  mother's 
— I  swear  it1'  cried  Eugane,  solemnly. 

'Linr!  liar  and  thief  I1  screamed  the  old 
mnn  ;  '  you  stole  it !' 

'  I  stole  it !' 

'  Yes,  villain,  yes  !  Here  nre  the  feature*, 
— abc  month,  tlie  «;ye,  the  forehead  of — of — 
my  fugitive  wife  !' ' 

'  1  our  fit^ifire  trifrl'  shrieked  back  a 
voice  of  superhuman  ngony.  4  For  Clod'y 
siike!  unsay  those  horrid  words!  Almi^'lity 
(leaven!  you,  then,  iiru  my  father — my  mil- 
tin  r  iriin  i/tnir  irtf'r  /' 

The  hapless  young  mnn  Htag^ered,  threw 
up  his  arms  to  Heaven,  then  N\nk,  with  u 
siii|ile  yroun  lit  bis  unnatural  parent's  feet  ! 

4  Sainted  spirit  of  my  mother!'  murmured 
u  heart-broken  voice.  •  Ku«;enc,()  Kn^ene! 
vi'.  ! — tnr.  t/u:  children  of  Jn/in  \'irin>n,  tlir. 
Mhu'!' 

And  tim  gasping  Kllcn  fell,  like-  n  light 
ning  stricken  (lower,  upon  her  brother's  ccnse- 
de*crtcd  body,  happily,  liko  him,  insensible 
to  this  bitterest  blow  of  .the  relentless  perse 
cutor,  Fate  !  . 

4  Holy  Heaven  !'  faltered  Henry  Vernon  ; 
1  they  bavo  found  in  me  a  cousin,  in  my  uncle 
a  father — and  that  wretched  mun  would  have 
Murdered  his  oicn  son!' 

The  self-wimH  moment  the  startling  report 
of  n  pistol  rang  through  tho  cave,  and  then  a 
two-fold  cry. 


120 


KIT  CARSON. 


CRASHES! 

AND  LAST. 

The  Revealing  of  Strange  Secrett — Kit 
Carson  break*  the  G 'organ  Knot  of  Mys 
tery  he  could  nut  untie.  The  Vow  /'«/• 
filed  at  Last. 

,4  New  England,  New  England,  my  home  o'er 

the  sea ! 
The  wanderer's  heart  turn,  in  fondness,  to 

theo  !' 


CONFUSION  of  mind 
•and  vision,  for  a  mo* 
ment,  came  over  Harry 
'Vernon — it  was  no  won- 
der  that  it  did.  Then 
it  was  that  he  collected 
himself  sufficiently  to 
the  cause  of  the  Btrnnge  and 
startling  climax  that  hud  been  placed  to  a 
thrilling  scene. 

Kit  Carsosi  stood  three  feet  from  him,  with 
the  nmoke  rolling  uway  from  the  muzzle  a 
discharged  pistol  in  his  hand.  The  cloud 
cleared  ofT  in  an  instant,  and  disclosed  the 
tall  figure  of  Carl,  the  Californian,just  in  the 
mouth  of  the  cave,  his  face  contorted  into  an 
expression  of  anguish  tho  moat  acute  ;  while 
a  torrent  of  blood  was  flosving  down  his  right 
arm,  which  hung  helpless  by  his  side.  It  was 
broken  at  the  elbow. 

A  laugh  of  stern  irony  fell  from  Carson'u 
lips, — 

*  Ha,  ha!'  my  good  friend,  and  did  you 
think  to  give  Kit  Carson  the  slip  so  easily  ? — 
So,  ho!  1  have  cut  short  your  retreat  some 
what  abruptly,  I  lour.  Buck  with  you,  or  the 
next  shot  goes  to  your  heart.' 

4  Ha  !'  uttered  Henry,  '  the  traitor  who 


but  no  !  he  wan  my  uncle's  accomplice  in  my 
meditated  ruin,  but  he  spared  my  Jife.  He 
was  more  merciful  than  his  master,  and  was 
but  a  tool,  after  all.  Stay!  uparo  him;  he 
is  already  punished  enough  ;  1,  at  least,  am 
content.' 

1  So  be  it,  then  ;  the  villain  hns  some  to- 
deeming  qualities.  Begone,  sir  Spaniard  ! — 
you  aro  free  to  go,  but  never  cross  my  path 
again.  Let  that  broken  nrrn  bo  a  memorial 
of  Kit  Carson,  and  thank  this  gentlemun  that 
you  fate  no  worse.  Away  !' 

The  Cnliforniun,  only  too  glad  to  comply, 
slunk  hurriedly  away  ;  and  in  a  few  moments 
they  saw  the  retreating  figure  of  the  wound 
ed  ruffian  far  down  the  mountain,  and  saw 
him  not  again. 

His  escape  from  the  bonds  that  confined 
him  had  been  effected  in  much  the  same  man 
ner  as  the  miser's,  for  Carson,  when  he 
wrenched  the  stiletto  from  the  old  man's 
hand,  hurled  it  several  feet  from  him,  causing 
it  to  full  within  reach  of  Carl's  fettered  hniul, 
with  which  he  contrived  to  free  himself,  us 
his  aged  confederate  had  dono  before  him, 
unpcrceivcd  and  unthought  of,  in  the  excite 
ment  of  the  surrounding  scene.  He  liad 
stumbled,  however,  in  rising;  ami  the  hunt 
er's  ever  rendy  ear  had  discovered  the  half- 
accomplished  flight. 

It  was  his  cry  of  pain  which  had  so  startled 
Henry,  but  it  was  not  the  only  one  ho  had 
heard,  and  he  turned  to  the  hunter,  saying, — 

1  Was  there  not  another  voice  ?  There 
seemed  to  bo  a  double  cry.' 

'  There  was;  and  it  was  Edward's  voice!' 
exclaimed  the  hunter,  as  if  speaking  to  him 
self.  '  Such  strange  events  have  crowded  on 
us,  I  have  not  once  thought  of  him.  The 
stunning  report  of  the  pistol-shot,  deepened 
by  the  cavern's  echoes,  must  have  dispelled, 
with  its  sudden  shock  her  protracted  swoon. 
Edward  !'  he  shouted. 


KIT  CARSON. 


121 


A  faint  voice  articulated, — »  Curson,  Car 
son  ! — Eugene,  Eugene  !' 

1  llu!'  ejaculated  the  hunter,  •  what  means 
this  strange  coupling  of  names  1  How  very 
singularly  you  net  in  all  things  concerning  the 
stranger  Lincoln  !' 

4  lie  sprang  as  he  spoke,  torch  in  hand,  to 
that  part  of  the  cave  to  which  he  had  borne 
Ins  protege,  and  gently  ho  drew  forth  the 
graceful  form  of  the  hundsome  boy. 

4  Ah,  dear  Carson,'  murmured  the  revived 
youth,  'what  fearful  shock  was  that  that  recall 
ed  my  wondering  senses  ?  it  seemed  like  the 
thunder's  ro;ir !' 

The  subterranean  reverberations  had  indeed 
giv  ;n  the  pistol's  detonation  a  stunning  sound 
— and  its  eH'oct  upon  the  swooning  condition 
of  the  miser's  children  was  a  too  premature 
reawakening. 

Poor  Ellen  heaved  the  first  sigh,  drew  the 
first  returning  breath,  but  her  brother,  with 
blood  shot  eyes  and  haggard  cheek,  was  the 
first  to  stagger  to  his  feet.  The  blood  had 
ceased  to  stream  from  his  wounded  chest,  but 
it  had  left  his  garments  dyed  with  its  ensan 
guined  stains. 

1  Futhi r!'  he  gasped,  convulsively;  and 
there  before  him,  as  he  spoke  the  word, cow 
ering,  grovelling  in  the  very  dust,  looking  as 
if  he  sought  to  shrink  within  himself — as  if 
he  would  have  rejoiced  to  see  the  earth  open 
and  swallow  him  from  his  injured  son's  sight. 
But,  alas!  it  was  the  attituce  into  which  the 
first  soul-blasting  disclosure  had  petrified  him, 
as  it  were;  it  was  the  attituJr,  only,  with  the 
awful  feeling  no  longer,  for  as  the  son  re 
peated  that  one  word — '  Father  1'  an  idiotic 
iuugli  replied  ! 

'Ellen,  Ellen!'  moaned  the  once  more 
stricken  son.  '  Holy  Heaven!  the  shock  o! 
this  dreadful  discovery  has  quite  overturned 
hn>  wits. 

1  Heaven  pity  us,  brother!  0  hear  tha 
horrid  merriment !'  gasped  Ellen,  as  peal  on 
peal  of  the  lunatic's  hideous  mirth  made  the 
cavern  ring  again,  to  the  ghastly  music  tha 
demons  love  to  howl  amid  infernal  torments 
'  Our  hapless  father  is  a  maniac  now — a  mo 
nomaniac  no  longer :" 

As  the  wretched  son  turned  with  a  shudder 
of  unutterable  aversion  from  his  yet  more 
miserable  father,  the  eye  of  the  boy  Edward 
detected  the  blood-stained  garments  of  the 
young  man,  on  which  the  t^rch-light  broadly 
fell,  and  with  a  thrilling  cry  that  syllabled  its 
own  echoes  into  words, — 


1  Oh  Heaven  !  he  is  wounded    fearfully  ! 

Eugene,  my  own,  idolized  Eugene!  1  will  die 
vuh  you!'  the  lad  threw  himself  wildly  into 
lie  extended  arms  uf  the  miser's  bun,  who, 
leedless  alike  of  the  astonishment  of  every 
:prct:ilor,  of  the  inexplicable  movement, 
caught  the  youth  in  his  warm  caress,  and  re- 
>catedly  kissing  l!;e  lips  of  that  beautiful  boy, 
fervently  uttered  the  word*, — 

'  ) 'cm  and,  Ellen  your  love  is  left  to  me— 
why  should  1  grieve?  1  mil  not  ;  no,  1  will 
lot;  enough  is  left  for  happiness.  But  your 
ears  deceive  you,  dearest.  1  know  not  how 
comes  this  blood  upon  my  breast,  but  1  feel 
"  am  not  seriously  hurt  Apprehend  nothing, 
dearest  one.' 

Unutterable  was  the  amazement  of  Ellen, 
Henry  ;  but  far  more  than  all,  the  hunter.  In 
his  strange  surprise,  Nature  denied  him,  for 
tin.'  moment,  speech. 

The  boy  Edward  appeared  to  mark  this. 
Hastily  he  withdrew  from  Lincoln's  embrace, 
bounded  back,  and  in  an  instant  was  kneel 
ing  at  the  hunter's  feet. 

4  Geneious,  noble  Carson,  forgive  me !' 
murmured  "the  lad. 

The  tongue  of  the  frontiersman  was  un 
chained  once  more, — 
4  Forgive  you,  boy  !* 

*  Yes,  my  noble-hearted  benefactor,  forgive 
me  for  years  of  deception  and  duplicity,  days 
and  hours  of  constant  deceit,  ot  which  you 
were  the  unsuspecting  object!  Yet  Oh!  it 
was  with  the  purest  and  best  of  motives,  as  I 
believed  P 

'  Edward  !  are  yon  mad  ?'  said  the  hunter, 
sternly. 

4  No,  no ;  only  mad  to  carry  on  the  delusion 
so  long,'  exclaimed  the  strange  lud,  embrac 
ing  Carson's  knees  ;  '  my  friend,  my  patron, 
rny  benefactor,  I  have  strangely,  cruelly  de 
ceived  you — /  am  not  of  the  same  sex  of 

ytntrtttf- ' 

4  Mad,  mad  as  a  March  hare  !'  broke  in  the 
honest  hunter. 

4  No,  no  ;  Christopher  Carson,  the  Edward 
whom  you  have  loved,  protected  and  cherish 
ed — the  supposed  boy,  Edward,  it  a  wo 
man  /' 

There  was  a  thrilling  silence  of  full  three 
breathless  moments  in  the  cave.  The  effect 
upon  the  hunter  had  been  most  powerful,  yet 
he  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence  that  fol 
lowed  the  astounding  confession. 

*  I  believe  you,  Edward  !  you  never  yet 
told  Kit  Carson  a  lie ;  but,  for  once,  he  i»  non- 


o 


132 


KIT  CARSON. 


plussed.  Blind  mule  that  1  was,  not  tu  luive 
perceived  this  boiorc ;  1  who  have  been  your 
const, mi  guardian  and  companion  for  moro 
than  ten  years,  while  u  stranger,  whom  juu 
liuve  nut  known  a  month,  dwoovered  it!— 
but  lover's  eyes,  they  nay,  nro  uhurpcr  than 
a  lynx's. 

1  It  was  accident  exposed  the  truth,'  replied 
Lincoln,  while  thu  cheek,  neck  und  bosom  of 
tho  *  soi-disunt'  hoy  crimsoned  again  unit 
a<_'ain  ;  4  accident  likewise  enabled  me  to  save 
lief  life — we  loved  each  other  from  that  hour. 
1  avowed  my  knowledge  of  her  sex's  secret 
to  her,  obtained  her  own  confession  of  that 
secret  mid  of  her  love  in  return,  and,  Carson, 
\ve  huve  heen  lietrolhed  IOMTIS  fur  ne  ir  u 
fortnight  DOW, — ever  binco  the  niyht  ol'  the 
prairie  lire. 

The  good  hunter's  astonished  feelings  now 
seemed  to  take  u  new  direction,  ua  hu  mid, 
thoughtfully, — 

'  And  not  the  remotest  suspicion  of  this 
ever  occurred  to  me  !  strange,  indeed  !  yet, 
in  the  Indian  cam]),  frum  whence  I  rescued 
you,  you  were  dfowwd  as  u  hoy  ;  und  UN  u 
hoy  1  reared  you.  Now  1  understand  your 
inconsistency,  your  timidity  ;  ut  times,  your 
Buttled  reserve,  und  unaccountable  desire  to 
avoid  all  familiarity  witii  my  honest  men.  1 
nee  it  now,  it  wus  hut  womanly  delicacy. — 
JJut  why  did  you  keep  your  sex  u  secret  from 
me,  your  only  friend  V 

'  Hecausc,  my  beloved  benefactor,!  wished 
to  be  ever  near  you,  to  share  in  your  dangers 
and  your  tods,  and  1  knew  tint  if  my  sex  was 
known,  you  would  never  .sutler  it,  that  it  could 
not  he.  This  was  when  1  ;MWV  to  think  and 
reason  myself;  before  thai,  as  u  child,  I  wan 
too  young  to  make  proper  distinction  ;  and 
when  I  became  older,  and  my  mind  and  per* 
:<on  began  to  mature,  after  my  return  from 
the  .Mexican  boarding-school  where  you 
placed  me,  in  your  generous  desiru  that  your 
ji'-'otege  should  receive  the  benefits  of  educa 
tion  and  society,  much  as  you  yourselfscorn- 
cd  the  latter — 1  felt  a  strong  disinclination  to 
exchange  my  lonji  fumilinr  drain  for  u  cos 
tumo  and  a  character  that,  though  of  right  be 
longing  to  me,  1  knew  must  separate  me 
from  my  only  friend.  There  was  also,  dear 
Carson,  another  reason, — I  had  a  constant 

5ire»entiment  that  by  retaining  tho  only  dress 
ever  remembered  to  have  worn,  some  eluo 
might  some  day  |M»wilily  h»  gained  cuncerii* 
ing  tho  fttoiim  foundling  of  tiiQ  Induu?  cump, 
her  biuh,  perluip^,  und ' 


'  Her  birth  !'  reiterated  Curson,  quickly. 
'  ll.i. !  by  Heaven  !  1  bethink  me  of  u  strange 
coincidence  !  why  did  it  not  strike  me  before  1 
Here  !  Henry  Vernon,  here  is  the  packet  you 
brought  me  from  your  father ;  read  it!  read 
it  aloud,  so  every  one  cun  hear.' 

The  young  student  started,  I\H  if  moved, 
too,  by  u  sudden  suspicion,  but  ho  did  not 
dare  to  think,  at  the  moment.  Tho  tone  in 
which  the  hunter  spoke  wus  excited,  peremp 
tory  ;  it*  oiled  upon  Henry  wus  sympathetic, 
lie  hurriedly  complied;  received  und  read 
the  p  icket  1 1  the  end. 

As  he  concluded,  as  tho  last  word  closed 
the  confession  of  a  lather's  strange  secret,  one 
simultaneous  glance  of  (startled  intelligence 
passed  round  the  group;  each  member  of 
which  read,  in  his  or  her  meaning  look,  the 
oilier  s  thoughts. 

4  Enough  !'  cried  Kit  Carson  ;  '  it  is  plain 
as  day.  I  lenry  Vernon,  I/tit  ffirl  in  iHf^uitc 
in  tin1  titter  you  tri'lc  /' 

i lurry  wailed  for  no  more,  tho  so  called 
Kdu;ird  found  u  brother's  arm*  "Mil  u  bro 
ther's  embrace;  but  home  time  wits  ilcrcuho 
could  bo  made  to  credit  that  there  wins  truth 
and  reality  in  the  strango  und  juyons  sur 
prises  that  surrounded  her. 

But  good  tidings  are  not  difTicult  to  believe  ; 
she  was  soon  convinced,  The  joy  of  one 
and  all  needs  not  to  be  told,  nor  the  wild 
ecsli.cy  of  Lincoln,  when  the  guardian  of  iho 
loved  ou<!  placed  her  band  within  that  of  the 
young  man,  and  said,  in  hi*  own,  noble 
way, — 

4  Take  her,  in  (Jod's  name  !  and  lovy  her 
as  I  have  done,  though  in  u  different  way. — 
You  wooed  her  as  the  nameless  prairie  girl, 
the  unknown  foundling  of  the  Indian  eatnp  ; 
you  win  her,  now,  as  the  daughter  and  iieirc'S 
(if  u  nabob,  und  thu  sHcr  of  your  dcurc»t 
friend,  that  nabob's  son.' 

'The  foundling  of  the  Indian  camp!'  re 
peated  Henry,  tho  last  alluded  to.  'What! 
and  did  you  never  once  nu»pect  that  the  stolen 
child  you  found  among  the  savages,  wan  tho 
same  that  wus  lost  on  t),e  bunks  of  tho  Mis- 

s'lSHIppi. 

'  Yes!  once  or  twice  tho  idea  sought  to  find 
place  in  my  mind,  hut  reason  told  me  it  was 
absurd — nay  more,  impossible.  The  one  was 
lost,  as  you  say,  on  the  banks  of  tho  Missis 
sippi;  iho  other  was  found  two  thousand 
miles  distant,  in  the  heart  of  California.  Tim 
one  was  Mippo.-cd  to  have  |  elided  in  iho 
4bre«t,  or  b«eu  thfotta  by  Providence  uit.» 


KIT  CARSON. 


iho  hands  of  some;  honest  border  trapper;  tho 
oilier,  I  encountered  in  a  far  distant  land, 
Among  n  horde  of  savages,  who  nro  as  fre 
quent  ki'lnappur*  of  children  as  tho  Gipsies 
themselves.  1  remember  now,  however,  what 
failed  tostriko  me  before,  those  Indians  wcro 
a  wandering,  roving  trihp,  constantly  migral- 
inr;  fr»rn  region  to  region,  nnd  therefore  the 
distance  rightly  yoes  for  nought  in  the  calcu 
lation.  "Vet  I  should  never  have  been  con 
vinced  of  tlin  child's  identity,  but  for  the 
strange,  coincidence,  in  each  case,  of  the  dis- 
guisrd  fcr  !' 

'  1  see  it,  I  see  it  all!'  rejoined  Henry. 

At  that  instant  tho  miser's  tnnriinc  laugh 
OUCH  more  thrilled  through  the  cave,  and 
abruptly  turning,  their  very  (Icsh  creeping  at 
'.hr  moeking  sound,  nil  beheld  tho  old  man 
on  l>is  knees  on  ihe  cavern  floor,  piling  to- 
pother  tho cnvo'fl  golden  store — with  the  look 
of  the  limatio/s  and  the  glaring  eye  of  uncon- 
quered  nvnricc.  The  lend  of  his  nature  was 
unsubdued,  stdl. 

4  Away  from  y«»ur  idM,  old  man — away  !' 
cried  ihe  stern,  deep  voice  of  Cursor),  and  he 
dragged  the  miser  bac'c  from  his  degrading 
woYship ;  4  you  shall  be  removed,  for  over, 
from  it  soon.' 

1  Removed  !'  screamed  the  exasperated  old 
man,  *  removed  from  my  gold  T  Never  ! — I 
will  die  firs:,  and  so  .^h  ill  you  !  I'll  tear  out 
your  very  heart  and  eat  it — your  heart!  do 
you  hear?' 

With  a  tiger- bound,  and  a  yell  liko  that  of 
n  wild  beast  leaping  on  its  prey,  the  maniac 
fluii^  himself  upon  the  hunter's  hack,  and 
cliini;,  with  terrible  desperation,  there.  It 
required  the  utmost  exertion  of  Carson's  enor 
mous  strength  to  dMo^go . his  enemy;  and 
fearful  were  his.strugg  os  ere  he  succeeded, 
and  shaking  him  oil',  dashed  him  forcibly  to 
the  ground,  and  once  more  held  tho  miser 
down. 

•The  old  man  is  a  raving  maniac! — doubt 
it  who  cm!'  ho  Raid,  punting  with  exhaus 
tion.  '  lie  must  be  carried  back  to  Boston 
in  chains  and  a  straight-jacket ;  and,  onco 
tl.rre,  placed  instnnMy  in  a  mud-house.' 

Ellen  looked  pitcously  at  her  brother,  as  if 
to  plead  forbearance ;  but  Eugene  gravely 
shook  his  head,  and  sr.  id  : 

4  It  is  dangerous  for  him  one  moment  longer 
to  be  at  large/ 

1  Dangerous  to  his  own  life  and  to  others,' 
pursued  Carson,  in  turn;  'In.-  is  clearly  a 


ra.'ing  madman,  and  must  live  henceforth  tho 

itiinntti  (if  mi  ins. IMC  asylum. ' 

4  Be  it  so,'  s:vid  Ellen,  sadly  ; '  yet,  Eugene, 
ho  is  our  father.1 

4  llo  dissolved  tho  tio  of  Nature  long  ago, 
Eilon.  Yet  it  is  a  duty  we  owe  to  the  safety 
of  humanity  ;  he  must  be  rendered  harmless,' 
replied  Eugene,  firmly,  coinciding,  as  his 
sister  saw.  with  Carson. 

4Alns!  alas!  my  brother,  and  must  we 
make  the  voyage  home  with  this  monster  on 
board  the  same  ship  ?  Heaven  forgive  mo 
for  such  a  term  applied  to  a  parent  !  Ah  ! 
me,  I  like  not  to  brave  again  the  wild  dangers 
of  the  sua,  and  that  terrible  passage  of  Capo 
Horn.' 

4  Nor  need  you,  lady  !'  said  the  hunter, 
courteously.  '  Listen  to  me,  fair  lady,  and 
you,  Henry  Vernon,nnd  you,  Lincoln,  too. — 
Within  a  week,  a  grand  caravan  of  my  men 
will  leave  the  gold  regions  for  tin:  overland 
route  to  the  United  States.  I  shall  head  the 
troops,  and  with  T\it  Carson  you  will  ho  as 
safe  as  in  your  native  city  Fear  not,  any  of 
you,  that  so  short'  a  stay  will  defeat  the  object 
of  your  coining  to  California  This  cavern 
is  stored  wiih  a  treasure  collected  for  many 
months  ;  mouths  before  the  existence  of  gold 
in  California  was  known  ;  and  it  is  to  carry 
this  away  from  the  secret  depository  that  Kit 
Carson's  men  are  here.  This  treasure  is 
boundless,  iin!  you  shall  each  be  sharers  with 
myself  and  band.  Will  you  join  the  can- 
van  ?' 

Never  was  proposal  more  joyously  acceded 
to.  Never  were  preparations  more  quickly 
made.  Within  the  prescribed  week,  tho 
horses  of  the  troop  were  laden  with  the  ines 
timable  riches  removed  from  the  treasure- 
cave,  and  the  whole  party  set  forward,  via 
San  Francisco,  for  the  United  Slates. 

At  San  Francisco  they  ma<ie  but  n  short 
stop.  Here  it  was  that  Carson  procured  from 
one  of  the  ships  in  port,  iron  fetters,  nnd  that 
species  of  body-manacle  wtll-known  as  tho 
lunatic's  straight-waist :  and,  much  as  it  pain 
ed  the  gentle-hearicd  Ellen,  this  rigorous  con 
finement  was  found  necessary  to  the  maniac- 
fathor,  whose  insane  ferocity  rendered  it  im 
perative  that  ho  should  be  forever  secluded 
from  the  world.  Nevertheless,  the  happiness 
of  the  young  people,  if  not  without  alloy,  was 
as  great  a»  it  could  well  be  ;  and,  aside  from 
all  thought  of  John  Vcrnon,  how  could  it  be 


otherv 


Brother  and  sister  had  been  re 


united, — Henry  Vernon  was  returning  with 


121 


KIT  CAR30N 


Ellen  his  bride, — he  was  on  his  wny  to  his 
father's  princely  home,  with  the  daughter 
who«e  loss  had  left  it  for  awhile  deflate; 
mid  ho  HIIW  thnt  recovered  (Saughior  nnd  sister 
betrothed  to  liiit  dearest  friend,  tho  brother  of 
liis  own  Hvvcot  wife.  Ami, oh !  how  strangely 
WIIM  tho  NapplnoM  of  nil  intermingled  1  It 
wan  with  overflowing  hearts  thut,  their  bright- 
eit  desires  conni«mmuted,  they  turned  their 
horses'  heads  from  Sun  Francisco,  und  found 
tin1  grand  caruvun  on  its  wuy  with  them  homo* 
wurd  ut  la»t ! 

'  You  uro  quite  certain,  Captain  Carson,' 
olmerved  Ellen,  gaily,  with  her  brightest 
mm!e,  '  there  there  can  bo  no  danger  or  im 
pediment  to  delay  us  ?' 

'  None,'  replied  tho  gallant  huntor,  '  that 
prudence  and  experience  cannot  gutird  against, 
llunish  every  (car,  l;uly  ;  you  will,  in  a  few 
weeks'  time,  NPQ  once  more  the  dear  old 
Boston  of  which  you  spoak  HO  much,  and 
whithur  you  go  to  bo  received  UN  the  loved 
and  lovely  bride  of  tho  nabob  Vernon's  heir ; 
and  you,  Kdwurd,  us  1  still  must  cull  you,  a 
fond  fithor,  wealth,  splendor,  nnd  station 
awuit  you  thoro.  You,  too,  Eugene,  ore  re 
turning  far  richer  than  a  millionaire  to  a  city 
in  which  you  once  toiled,  n  despised  and  pen 
niless  cl»rk,  nnd  with  a  betrothed  bride  by 
your  side.  And  you,  Henry  Vornon,  go  to 
introduce  to  your  distant  parents  a  lovely 
niece,  in  tho  person  of  your  wedded  wife, 
and  with  vour  own  lips  to  annum  the  brother 
of  John  Vernon,  that,  with  Heaven's  help, 
KIT  CAKSON  UAH  KULFII.LKI)  IIIH  vow  I* 

And  how,  having  brought  our  plot  to  UN  ca 
tastrophe,  nn'J  our  chief  characters  to  the  goal 
of  their  wishes,  wo  nru  at  liberty  to  leave  both 
thoso  nnd  the  grncioiiH  reader,  unless  the  (ut 
ter,  over  kind  und  jjeneroun,  hbull  ehoono  to 
accompany  no  yet  further,  into  the  pages  of 
the  Sr.qirKL  TO  THIS  STOUY,  which  will  NOOII 
bu  publiahod  in  pamphlet  form ;  and  from 


it  learn,  how  strangely  Fate  orders  hu 
man  events,  and  thwarts  the  beat-laid  plots  of 
Men  ;  how  our  Adventurers  singularly  enough 
failed  to  reach  their  intended  delimit  ion  ; 
how  tho  running  of  a  mailman  bullied  tho 
wholo  wondrous  skill  nnd  nddrcNx  of  the  ex 
perienced  CAUNON,  placed  him  and  his  com- 
paiiion*  in  littlltlafli  of  the  groatcMt  huxiird, 
and  brought  about  ruin  to  their  designx;  how 
tho  grand  caravan  WUH  denpoiled  of  )t«  cnor- 
inoim  treasure,  by  tho  avurice  of  the  mixer  und 
monomaniac,  and  compelled  to  ictrace  its 
way  to  the  Gold  UegioiiH,  through  danger* 
and  perils  and  startling  Achcmett  for  its  des 
truction  :  all  produced  by  a  Heritn  of  plots, 
stratagems,  and  H.mrcs  that  could  alone  huvo 
found  birth  in  the  mysterious  cunning  of 
INSANITY  I 

For  this,  let  the  reader  turn,  if  it  plense 
him,  to  '  LIKK  IN  CAMKOIINIA  ;  or,  The 
Treasure  «S'«r/arji'  fitpetfttio*  :'  a  work  that 
possesses  the  double  ndvuiitnge  of  being  a 
K0(|uel  to  KitCnrHon,  and  a  complete  story  in 
itself;  (which  will  shortly  bo  published  in 
pamphlet  form),  detailing,  as  it  does,  the 
habits,  customs  and  peculiarities  of  tho 
operatives  of  the  (told  Mines,  among  which 
its  scenes  ore  wholly  laid— -their  manners, 
mode  of  life,  and  the  novel  and  adventurous 
scenes  daily  transpiring  in  their  midst ;  a  work 
laid  in  a  more  extended  !i--ld  of  plot  and  in 
cident,  involving  events  and  occurrences  of 
tho  freshest  and  most  exciting  interest,  nnd 
throwing  open  to  view  the  most  bewildering 
HonrotH  and  richest  treasures  of  that  wondrous 
land  ! 

Meanwhile  we  bid  tho  patient  reader  ndiou, 
trusting  to  meet  again  as  often  and  us  plea* 
santly  :  and  ended  is  our  Story  of  KIT  I/AR 
SON,  Till'.  1'lUNCK  OK  Till'.  lioLD-llUNTKKS. 

TUB:  END, 


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A  Tale  of  Life  in  the  Metropolis, 

BY   THE    AUTHOR    OP    '  LUCY    LANE,'    '  LUKE    LOYELL,'   '  GRACE    MELENDY,1    &C. 

THIS  is  an  admirable  tale  ;  full  of  interest,  and  with  many  new  views  of  char- 
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story  never  flags;  and  you  open  at  once  upon  the  main  interest.  The  book  is 
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THIS  volume  is  printed  with  Long  Primer  type,  of  a  clear  and  elegant  form, 
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an 

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